Absolutely Do Not Touch ELdmia Egga – Chapter 162

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Yuziro
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Envelde hadn’t drawn his sword.

The resistance he felt from Eldmia’s grip told him it wouldn’t be easy, and he wasn’t about to risk a desperate, last-ditch effort from a dying man.

He’d seen too many good men die that way on the battlefield.

Eldmia’s Aura, however, was unsettlingly strong, far more potent than he’d anticipated, despite the boy’s deceptively casual demeanor.

A cold sweat slicked Envelde’s palms.

Even with a blade buried in Eldmia’s abdomen, any opening, any hesitation, could be fatal.

He had his own sword, and Eldmia’s discarded one was within reach.

He could afford to be patient.

Instead of drawing, Envelde drove his fist into Eldmia’s face.

A dull thud echoed as Eldmia’s head snapped back, but this time, he didn’t go flying.

Envelde had carefully controlled his Aura.

“Enjoying your life in the capital? Did you think the world was yours for the taking, you fool?”

The mistake, or perhaps the misconception, so common among talented young knights—the unfounded belief that their skills transcended generations.

“Yes, you’re strong. If I were your age, I wouldn’t have stood a chance against you. I didn’t possess your talent back then. But decades of experience on the battlefield are not so easily overcome by a handful of youthful talent, boy.”

Another punch landed, snapping Eldmia’s jaw.

Even then, the lack of a clean impact, a subtle resistance, told Envelde that Eldmia was still reacting.

He felt a grudging admiration, tinged with regret.

The boy was exceptional, undeniably so, even in this state.

Envelde ignored Eldmia, walking to his desk and retrieving a potion from a drawer.

He placed it on the desk, deliberately drawing Eldmia’s gaze.

Thud.

“Left untreated, you’ll die. Pull the sword out, and you’ll bleed out soon enough. And you can’t beat me. Crawl here and swear your allegiance if you want to live, Eldmia.”

“What a pathetic last stand…”

Despite his precarious situation, Eldmia clutched the embedded sword, sneering.

Envelde sighed at the boy’s stubborn defiance.

“Even I was powerless on the battlefield against the demons. Have you ever faced a real demon? Expert-level centurions leading their troops, the commanders, the generals… they’re all powerful. Unlike humans, they revere strength.”

Even the King’s Ten Swords, renowned throughout the continent, couldn’t dominate against them. Risking your life against such foes, simply because of a prophecy, was foolish.

“Did you never question why those knights joined my rebellion? Did you think they were failures, weaker than you? You failed to grasp why they turned their backs on the battlefield and chose to join me. That is your arrogance…”

“Damn it… it hurts, so stop with the jokes. I can’t concentrate.”

Eldmia’s chuckle, his shaking head, was impressive, but Envelde dismissed it as a last act of defiance.

“People everywhere are the same. Judging others at face value, thinking they know everything, making assumptions… Do you know some secret about my birth, too?”

Instead of collapsing, Eldmia maintained his posture, speaking through gritted teeth.

“I’ve already considered everything you’ve said, and I’ve reached my own conclusions.”

“What?”

“I’ve seen humans collaborating with demons, working as equals. That means somewhere in the Demonlands, humans and demons coexist peacefully. If the kingdom surrenders, it’ll just become another part of the Demonlands. That’s what you’re banking on, isn’t it? Bowing down to the Demon King after your rebellion?”

Envelde didn’t argue.

He simply stared at Eldmia, suspicion clouding his eyes.

“And you thought I’d cooperate with you knowing that? That I’m opposing you out of ignorance? That I’m arrogant enough to believe I can defeat the demons? Bullshit, Envelde. I’ve never been arrogant in my life. I simply fight those who raise a sword against me. I’m not pretending I can kill those who are invincible. I’m just saying I’ll kill those who can be killed. How is that arrogance?”

“And yet, you’re in this state because you misjudged your opponent’s strength.”

“Misjudged? Heh, ah, damn it.”

It wasn’t a mocking laugh, but a genuine chuckle, and Envelde couldn’t comprehend it.

He was laughing?

With a sword in his gut, on the verge of bleeding out?

Eldmia’s bag was visible, likely containing potions, but Envelde wouldn’t let him reach it.

Despite the precarious situation, Eldmia was genuinely amused.

“I understand. You’re used to knowing whether your opponent is stronger or weaker. But I’ve lived a life where I can’t tell, so I don’t care. I always prepare, though. This time, I screwed up, even with preparations, so I admit I lacked the ability… damn it, the sword. I didn’t expect you to catch it, so I miscalculated. I’ll remember that for next time. But I never entertained the baseless belief that there wouldn’t be anyone stronger than me while raiding a traitor’s mansion.”

“That’s a fallacy. You should have run.”

“Run? Ruuun?”

The laughter grew louder, punctuated by a groan of pain.

“Why would I run when a perfect measuring stick just showed up? I have to experiment.”

“Experiment?”

“To see how far I can go. Isn’t it obvious? I have a chance to fight someone much weaker than my target, so running would be strange, wouldn’t it?”

The glint in Eldmia’s eyes was unsettling, bordering on madness.

Envelde felt a shiver run down his spine.

“My life is predicated on fighting strong opponents. It’s just that insignificant pests keep getting in my way. I don’t pick my fights based on strength.”

Gish had craved battles against strong opponents, but he’d sought them among his own kind.

He’d left the battlefield and joined the rebellion, seeking more opportunities for such fights.

But this boy… he was different.

He acted based on a single criterion: whether someone posed a threat to him.

And if they did, he would retaliate, regardless of their strength.

That was why, even on the verge of death, his focus remained on an unseen, unknown demonic opponent.

These types didn’t give up easily.

A sense of unease washed over Envelde.

He gestured towards the embedded sword.

“And look where that got you.”

“Expecting a sword to the gut, preparing for it, dodging the vital spots, and catching the blade with my body? Anyone would think I was dead.”

A wicked grin, the same one Envelde had seen in the courtroom, spread across Eldmia’s face.

“If you wanted to kill me, you should have aimed for the neck. You’re dying because of your arrogance, Envelde Bosha. If anyone asks how you died, remember that…”

Envelde shook his head at Eldmia’s insane bravado, closing the distance.

He’d deliberately taken the blow?

Caught the blade with his body?

The boy clearly lacked a sense of danger.

“Then let’s see how long you can last.”

He was about to draw his sword when Eldmia raised his left hand, clutching the embedded blade, and formed a fist.

“…Killed by a technique called Sword Control.”

A sudden, sharp pain erupted in Envelde’s chest, tearing through his lungs.

“What…?”

A dull thud echoed in his ears.

He stared in disbelief at the blade protruding from his chest.

It was Eldmia’s sword, the one he’d knocked away.

“The outcome of a battle isn’t determined solely by strength. Variables play a role, too.”

What I had: a superior physique, a sturdy sword, magic-resistant gauntlets, a curse-repelling ring.

And mana.

“Well, it’s not your fault. How could you have anticipated this? You’re not a prophet.”

While I’d been talking, I’d been focusing on synchronizing with my discarded sword.

I’d already taken a hit to the side, so I figured it wouldn’t be a problem, but the sensation was different, hotter, and it took longer than I’d expected.

Thanks to my experience linking with a living being, connecting with a sword was much easier.

The challenge was figuring out how to launch it like a projectile.

Fortunately, that was easier than I’d thought.

I channeled mana into the pommel, reinforcing it like I would my body, and the resulting recoil sent the sword flying with incredible speed.

Honestly, I’d panicked when Envelde walked towards his desk and my discarded sword came into his view.

But thanks to that, I’d gotten my hands on a potion, so it didn’t matter anymore.

I channeled mana, pulling the sword from Envelde’s body.

He coughed up blood, staring at the blade protruding from his chest, still unable to comprehend what had happened.

“Cough… how…?”

“You synchronize your mana with the mana in the sword, and then you do this and that. You can’t do it because you use Aura.”

I walked past him, grabbing the potion from his desk.

It might have been a fake, meant to taunt me, but I had to try.

Despite his confusion, Envelde grasped the gist of my explanation.

“Ma…na? Mana…?”

I wasn’t about to explain further.

Confusion, bewilderment, and disbelief were overshadowed by a profound fear of the unknown in Envelde’s eyes.

He could barely move, just turning his head to look at me.

I took a swig of the potion, pulled the sword from my own abdomen, and poured the remaining liquid onto the wound.

A searing pain shot through me, but it was better than dying.

“It might seem unfair, but that’s how the world works. Just like you were scheming for your rebellion, I was scheming for my own purpose.”

Envelde’s eyes were losing focus.

If it had been a simple chest wound, he wouldn’t have been collapsing like this.

I must have hit something vital.

Knowing he had only seconds left, I finished him.

“My purpose was to spread the warning: never touch Eldmia Egga. I told you before, the message is what matters.”

“For such a… trivial reason… to betray… the cause…”

“A criminal who deals in slave trading talking about a cause? Your only purpose now is to serve as a warning sign.”

As if he had any right to be self-righteous.

I wasn’t sure if he heard my last words, but Envelde collapsed.

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[2 big baddies kild by the same technique… is he gonna kill the demon king with the same ability? would be pretty funny ngl]