The Academy’s Ankle Reaper – Chapter 38

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Translated By Arcane Translations
Translator: Vine
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Masters are those who shatter the wall, who grasp the essence of the world and redefine themselves. Their numbers are few, rarely exceeding ten in any given era. And they all share a common trait: Their personalities are… (Excerpt from The Birth of the Superhuman, by Fernard)

A blinding light filled the dark chamber.
My Aura Blade, emanating from the large greatsword, illuminated the cave, dispelling the demonic mist.
It resembled divine power, but it was different.
Divine power and demonic energy, both extradimensional forces, annihilated each other upon contact.
But a Master’s Aura Blade was different.

A Master’s Aura Blade was composed of the same mana as an Expert’s, a harmonious blend of mind, body, and spirit.
The intense concentration, the blade of pure light, was a manifestation of unwavering will, an indomitable spirit that repelled extradimensional forces.

“[Agh!!!]”

Demonic energy erupted from Belphegor’s chest, not from a spell, but from the wound inflicted by my Aura Blade.
The formless energy was severed.
The dark spikes, the swirling mist, all dissipated before the light.

Belphegor, the Slothful Demon, was a master strategist, commanding legions from his infernal swamp, but his personal combat skills were lacking.
And this wasn’t even his true form.
He had forced an incomplete summoning, possessing the body of the dungeon boss.

“Lord of the Infernal Swamp? This is all you’ve got?”

“[You…!]”

Black energy coalesced in his hand.
It looked like a casual gesture, but it was an 8th-circle attack spell, a mere “basic attack” for a greater demon, capable of unleashing high-level magic with a flick of his wrist.
But I wasn’t intimidated.

“You think I’d let you?”

My Aura Blade sliced through his hand and the demonic energy, severing them both.
An 8th-circle spell was nothing but a fireball before a Master’s Aura Blade.
It vanished upon contact.
His power, nullified before it could manifest.
Black smoke billowed from the clean-cut wound.

A Master, a mere human, toying with a greater demon, the Lord of the Infernal Swamp.

“[Gah!]”

He swung his severed hand, but I was already gone, reappearing in mid-air, my blade descending towards his exposed knee.

“Your leg is open.”

-Slice!

I severed his knee, and the massive demon collapsed.
I had severed a greater demon’s leg.

“[I… I’ve fallen…?!]”

He looked like a troll, not a demon, if not for the horns.
His side was pierced, his hand severed, his leg gone.
Belphegor, the Slothful Demon, unaccustomed to such treatment, was surprisingly talkative. As I approached with my sword, he glared at me, his eyes burning with dark energy.

“[Don’t think… this is… my full power! If I were… in my true form… I could crush you… with one hand…!]”

“So? What are you going to do about it?”

I severed his other leg. He lay on the ground, thrashing pathetically. Normally, even for a Master, this level of dominance against a greater demon was impossible. A fully summoned greater demon, in their own domain, would have the advantage. But this Belphegor was a fraction of his true power, forced into an incomplete summoning, using the dungeon boss’s body as a vessel. I had even borrowed a holy relic from the Church, out of paranoia, incurring a debt for nothing.

“What are you going to do? I’m the one winning.”

His incomplete summoning was his problem. Who told him to come half-assed? Who held a knife to his throat in hell and forced him into this pathetic display?

“Crush me with one hand? Go ahead. Oh, you can’t? Isn’t that what you humans call… pathetic? Making excuses after losing? Who told you to come half-assed?”

“[If I… were fully summoned…!!!]”

“Then you should have come fully summoned.”

He glared at me, his eyes blazing, but he was still on the ground, a pathetic sight. I decided to end this charade. I raised my glowing Aura Blade, pointing it at his head.

“You know how embarrassing this is, right?”

I moved the blade, stopping it just above his horn.

“[What… are you… doing…?]”

He knew.

“You’re the only greater demon in two hundred years to be defeated by a human. A momentous occasion! I’ll make sure this is recorded in history. ‘Belphegor, Lord of the Infernal Swamp, summoned, then utterly humiliated and dismembered by a human, returned to hell in disgrace.’”

I lowered the blade, placing it gently against his thick horn. A screeching sound as the horn began to disintegrate.

“And you’ll leave behind a trophy.”

A single stroke would sever it.

“[What… are you… doing?! Stop… this instant…!]”

“Humans love embellishment. A trophy like this… will be a source of mockery for centuries.”

“[You…!]”

-Slice!

The horn severed cleanly.

“[Agh! My… my horn!!!]”

He screamed, clutching the severed horn, wailing like a child.

“[I… I will remember this…! I… I will…!]”

“Come back anytime. I’ll take the other one next time, for symmetry. I’m looking forward to it.”

I ignored his murderous glare and raised my sword again. The Aura Blade descended, severing his head. The demonic form dissipated, leaving behind the corpse of the dungeon boss, a mere troll. Belphegor, weakened, had retreated to hell.

I reached into my pocket, feeling a small, round object.

I brought this for nothing.

The holy relic, borrowed from the Church, had been unnecessary. I had incurred a debt for nothing. Who would have thought a greater demon would be so weak?

…I’ll keep it, just in case…

There was no return date. I’d find a use for it. I turned to Amy.

“Now… don’t you have something to say to me?”

We needed to talk.

“Look at you. You’re a mess.”

Amy was in bad shape: bruises, a broken arm, a bleeding gash on her forehead. Her leg, pierced by the demonic spike, was blackened and swollen. She needed medical attention.

“Get on.”

I couldn’t stay here. The dungeon was collapsing. We had to leave. I crouched down.

“What are you waiting for? Want to be buried alive?”

She hesitated.

“Are… you sure…?”

That hesitant look. I knew what she was thinking.

-Flick!

“Ow!”

Another flick to her forehead.

“You can still talk. Get on before I drag you.”

“…Okay…”

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