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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Yuziro
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Twenty guards lay dead in the temporary detention center, slain by Eldmia’s blade.
It was nothing remarkable.
Reaching Expert level made such feats easy.
A mob might pose a challenge, but individual soldiers stood no chance against an Aura user.
Besides, such power was trivial to those who had witnessed soldiers swept away like leaves before the might of demons on the battlefield.
Had they known that every guard had fallen with a single strike, their heads severed cleanly, they might have reconsidered their approach.
But they hadn’t.
He had defeated the Hero.
He was just a boy, coddled by the Empire.
Divine Mandate and the title of “Hero” meant little; he was still just flesh and blood.
Rumors painted him as a reckless youth, just another boy playing at war.
If he had truly been a world-shattering force, the Empire wouldn’t have let him go so easily.
Had they abandoned their complacent view of the Hero as a mere symbol and exercised caution, they might have reconsidered.
But they hadn’t.
He had saved the First Princess in the academy incident.
He had simply pushed her aside and stepped through the gate in her place.
A noble act, but not necessarily proof of exceptional skill.
The demon that appeared had been swiftly dispatched by the Princess’s guards, suggesting it wasn’t a formidable foe.
Everyone believed the rumors, the exaggerated tales of Eldmia’s prowess.
He was skilled, yes, but ultimately, just a boy caught up in the hype.
Had they known that the First Princess had personally traveled to the kingdom to find him, and that she was aware of the circumstances surrounding the demon’s appearance, they wouldn’t have underestimated him so readily.
But, lacking crucial information, they hadn’t.
The priority kill order, the deployment of six Expert-level knights, demon-war veterans – it was all meant to ensure a swift and decisive resolution.
These veterans understood the realities of war, the limitations of humans.
Even the extraordinary heroes emerging across the land radiated immense Aura and mana, easily distinguishable from afar.
Synthesizing their information and experience, they had concluded that Eldmia Egga posed no significant threat.
And now, they were paying the price for their misjudgment.
“How?!”
The question echoed in the minds of the remaining five, but none voiced it.
There was no time for words, only for swift assessment.
Unforeseen speed, a technique occasionally witnessed on the battlefield.
Someone recognized it – the double acceleration employed by skilled combatants.
“Double acceleration! Close in!”
“I’ll engage! Cover me!”
Double acceleration was a clever trick, but useless at close range.
It was a maneuver born of skill disparity, not a higher-level technique.
They adjusted their grips, preparing for a proper encirclement.
The initial surprise was a costly mistake, but it wouldn’t happen again.
Their plan was simple: engage, create an opening, and strike.
A coordinated attack they could execute flawlessly, even without words.
But as they lunged, they saw only the afterimage of Eldmia’s blade and a comrade’s head soaring through the air.
“Gah…!”
Retreat was impossible.
They pressed forward, witnessing their dying comrade and Eldmia’s impassive face as he retrieved his sword.
They scrambled to understand what had just happened.
The answer was clear: precise, deadly swordsmanship.
There had been no mistake on their comrade’s part.
Eldmia had simply been too fast.
The exchange had been so swift that their instinctive counterattacks were met by Eldmia’s blade, coiling like a serpent around their necks.
A textbook counter, so perfect it could be in a training manual.
They gritted their teeth.
Something was terribly wrong.
Either their information was flawed, or this boy was not human.
“That’s no fifteen-year-old!”
“Seven years of relentless training, even in your sleep, and you might achieve this. Too late now.”
Swordsmanship was a skill, and skills could be learned.
Geniuses sometimes emerged, but their brilliance lay in application, not fundamentals.
True prodigies, those with superior physical and mental abilities, didn’t employ ordinary techniques.
They recognized it now – Eldmia was a master, his skill surpassing even seasoned knights.
The realization was chilling.
“Left!”
“…Right!”
Had they been overconfident?
Or had they simply underestimated him?
It didn’t matter now.
He was a master who offered no openings.
With two already dead, they had only one option.
A suicide attack, creating an opening for their comrades.
They were Experts; their Aura-enhanced bodies would force Eldmia to react.
Even if they died, their comrades would finish him.
They had already accepted death.
Everything was for the end of this wretched war.
With resolute determination, they charged, their blades aimed at Eldmia’s throat.
“A deathmatch…”
Eldmia murmured, watching their approach.
“…requires equal footing.”
His blade flashed horizontally, cleaving through stone, steel, and flesh.
Two heads flew through the air.
“You’re not even close.”
The remaining two hesitated, stunned by the surreal display of power.
“A magic sword…!”
Their skills, their assumptions – everything had been wrong.
Was this a royal trap?
A blade that could cut through stone and steel with such ease… an enchantment of extreme sharpness…
“Nonsense. Just a sturdy sword and a sturdy body, infused with mana.”
Their minds, reeling in disbelief, were interrupted by a mocking smirk on Eldmia’s face.
“You’re dying because you misjudged your opponent and attacked someone stronger than you. You lured me here, so you must be familiar with this kind of ending. Why the theatrics? Just die.”
Only after four of their comrades had fallen did they understand why they had been sent.
The Count hadn’t underestimated Eldmia; he had simply deployed the best available force against an unknown enemy.
Even his best had miscalculated.
“…Damn it.”
But they didn’t blame the Count.
It would be madness to assume every opponent was a fifteen-year-old capable of slaughtering six Expert-level knights.
They hadn’t joined the rebellion believing in such fantasies.
Their normal sense of reality had been their downfall.
The irony was almost calming.
“Will you spare us if we surrender?”
“No. I don’t need any more proof.”
With their death sentence delivered, Eldmia adjusted his stance.
Without a word, the remaining two mirrored his movement.
“So we die to a monster, after fleeing from monsters on the battlefield.”
“I’m human, you know.”
With an irritated retort, Eldmia charged.
Despite anticipating the double acceleration, they couldn’t react.
Another head flew through the air.
The last knight swung his sword.
“Truly… artistic.”
He parried, his blade coiling around the knight’s neck.
The last head joined the others, bouncing off the wall.
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Unlike the others, the last two had accepted death.
Like Delt.
Perhaps they had learned that acceptance of death had little to do with strength.
A small victory, of sorts.
“A battlefield, huh? Deserters, or veterans?”
They had spoken of fleeing from monsters, suggesting they had faced the demon army.
And if they couldn’t survive that, they were hardly a threat here.
But why join Bosha’s rebellion after fleeing the demon army?
What did they hope to gain?
Did they believe the war would end if the king changed?
Did Bosha promise an alliance with the demons?
“That seems likely.”
This wasn’t a war of territorial conquest; it was a war of survival against an entire species, instigated by the demons.
Unless humanity surrendered, the war wouldn’t end with a change of kings.
He recalled seeing humans among the demon army when he faced that cursed demon.
Surrender was a possibility.
So, this was just another war of conquest.
Why, then, had the gods sent a Hero to drive out the Demon King?
“Reborn into such a chaotic era… but then again, being reborn is a privilege in itself.”
There was no point in pondering the unknowable.
He pocketed the money he found on the bodies, wiped his blade on a relatively clean piece of cloth, and left the alley.
He had already learned about this area from Zikmel.
There was no risk of being caught.
The clothes on these bodies were valuable; the slum dwellers would take care of the rest.
Even if he were discovered, it didn’t matter.
The important thing was that Bosha had made his move.
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[Those knights got VIOLATED, if they could get fucked, they would have beenwithout an asshole by this point]
Beautiful chapter showing how good Eldmia is in a sword fight.
I suspect his next big battle will be against a berserker of sorts, rather than another sword user or mage.