Episode 92

Junian overheard our conversation and rose from the ground. Though overcoming the urge to self-destruct in such a short time couldn’t have been easy, she seemed to have regained her composure.

“Do we even stand a chance?” she asked.

“Seren has a secret technique,” I said. “I don’t know if it will work against the priest, but we have no other choice. We’ll have to try.”

“Then I’ll take the front. You protect Seren.”

“Agreed.”

The moment Junian nodded, dozens of demons descended from the sky at once.

The forest trembled. Overwhelming pressure bore down on me as if a legion of Grim Reapers had surged forth to claim my life.

I was overwhelmed but not frightened. Just like in the Jewel Mountains, numbers alone didn’t matter. Only so many enemies could attack me at the same time.

The moment boulder-sized demons crashed down, the ground shook violently from the impact.

Without hesitation, Junian plunged into the swarm, throwing herself into the most perilous part of the battlefield.

Her weapon was a morning star, a brutal spiked mace with a steel-clad head. Wielding it with monstrous strength, she tore through the demons. Before long, her body was drenched in their blood.

I barely dodged a demon’s fist and realized I had no time to watch.

I countered the Beasts’ onslaught with the White Sun Eclipse, but I soon felt that this wasn’t enough.

Didn’t he say that demons have no common traits?

It was something the Iron-Blooded Lord had once told me. Now, in the midst of battle, I understood what he meant.

While most Beasts shared a similar appearance aside from size, their temperaments varied wildly. Some fought on pure instinct, while others lurked, waiting for an opening. One lashed out with a serpent’s tail while another gored with its horns. Some didn’t even care if their kin died, spewing fire indiscriminately.

What a headache.

In such a situation, I not only had to kill the demons but also protect Seren. Even two bodies wouldn’t be enough.

I was running out of options.

What else do I have besides the White Sun Eclipse?

—Draw your sword.

As I weighed my options, the Martial God suddenly cut in. This fellow only woke up at the most unpredictable times.

“My main focus isn’t the sword but my fists, Martial God.”

I wasn’t unskilled in swordsmanship, but switching now would be a mistake. The White Sun Eclipse was the only reason I’d held out this long. Had I relied on a sword from the start, I’d already be dead.

—I know, Messenger.

“Yet you want me to draw it?”

—That’s right. In the first place, I never said to abandon the White Sun Eclipse.

For a moment, my mind went blank.

“Are you saying…”

—Use both.

I laughed at the ridiculous suggestion. “With all due respect, Martial God, my mastery isn’t advanced enough to wield two martial arts simultaneously.”

Executing different martial arts at once required understanding the principle of multitasking. My master had said this technique couldn’t be attained through training alone. Innate talent also played a crucial role.

—I didn’t say to use them simultaneously.

“This isn’t the time for word games, Martial God.”

—Messenger, whether this becomes advice or mere word games depends on your resolve.

I remained silent.

—What matters is the speed of your transitions between martial arts. If you can switch from sword to fist techniques in a fraction of a second, it will appear as though you’re performing both at once.

I would have scoffed at any other time, replying with something like, “What nonsense is this?”

But whether out of madness or desperation, his words held a strange plausibility. And once an idea took root in my mind, I had to test it.

I drew the Seven Sins Sword in a flash.

The White Sun Eclipse with my right hand, swordsmanship with my left. Wielding a sword left-handed wasn’t unfamiliar. In my pre-regression life, my right arm’s tendons had been severed, forcing me to train with my left.

Not simultaneous, but transitions so swift they seem that way… I slowly unraveled the Martial God’s words. Thankfully, my focus sharpened in life-or-death situations, allowing me to grasp his concept of rapid transitions.

Let’s divide my concentration.

I couldn’t split my concentration equally. If I had to assign ratios, it would be 70% to swordsmanship and 30% to the White Sun Eclipse. The latter was my most familiar technique, something I could execute even half-asleep, so I didn’t need to fixate on it.

Next, I considered which sword style to use with my left hand. My first choice was the nameless, third-rate style from my mercenary days—a crude adaptation of my family’s hereditary swordsmanship, modified for my left hand. In retrospect, the style was riddled with flaws. It would have sufficed against low-level monsters, but it was far from adequate against demons.

A memory suddenly surged through my mind. Mud monsters appeared out of nowhere at the edge of a steep cliff, and a boy walked calmly toward them. What followed was a murderous sword dance that pursued only efficiency.

Recalling the Iron-Blooded Lord’s incomplete swordsmanship, I immediately replicated it.

—Oh?

This nameless sword art demanded absolute lethality. Not one or two strikes—death had to come within half a breath. I could attack as many times as needed, but the enemy had to die in that span. A single misstep, and the surviving demon would deliver a fatal blow.

It is a savage style.

The swordsmanship exuded confidence, as if any enemy could be slain in half a breath. Frankly, it was beyond my current capabilities. At this rate, I’d collapse before killing all the demons.

What now?

I had relied on the third-rate swordsmanship I once used as a mercenary and mimicked the Iron-Blooded Lord’s anti-demon techniques. What else remained?

Ah.

I recalled the martial art the Martial God had demonstrated at the Altar of a Forgotten God—the Galaxy Sword, the Nameless King’s signature.

If only I could even imitate its divine majesty…

They said ignorance was bliss. That was me now. Had I truly understood the intricacies of the Galaxy Sword, I wouldn’t have dared to think of pairing it with the White Sun Eclipse. But because I’d only glimpsed it, my crude imitation was possible.

And so, I entered a bizarre state.

In the chaos of battle, seamless transitions were impossible. Sometimes. I struck demons with my sword’s hilt. Other times, I executed the Galaxy Sword with a blade-like palm strike.

In those moments, the distinction between sword and fist blurred. I realized that with the right intent, I could perform the Galaxy Sword barehanded or the White Sun Eclipse with a sword.

So what truly separated swordsmanship from martial arts?

A sword.

I glanced at the Seven Sins Sword. A sword was undeniably efficient—harder than flesh, designed for offense, with superior reach.

The body.

Yet the body had its own advantages. It was far more flexible than a rigid weapon, adaptable to countless situations. Unlike the sword, I could sense abnormalities the instant they occurred.

Then… Perhaps the second half of the White Sun Eclipse was never necessary. If that’s true, why did Master call it incomplete? Does he not want this to be my only martial art?

It was only speculation, but it was possible he feared it would become my shackle.

—Dubhe is born in the midst of flames. The red sky offers endless targets. Congratulations on your entry into the Galaxy Sword, Messenger.

The Martial God’s voice was laced with amusement.

***

My body burned.

The Galaxy Sword and White Sun Eclipse were ascension-type martial arts, so alternating between them placed an immense strain on me. Yet this physical overload was exactly what I’d wanted. My body creaked, on the verge of shattering, yet paradoxically, the heat within me grew. Gradually, it transformed into the optimal state for unleashing the First Fire Technique.

By the time the heat consumed all sensation, I’d even forgotten the curse’s influence.

Finally, I entered the White Fire state.

I bisected two Beasts with a palm strike. Unlike a sword’s clean cut, their wounds looked torn, as if ripped apart by brute force.

Describing my current state was difficult. Normally, White Fire erased fatigue and pain, replacing them with exhilaration. But now, my head still spun, and my stomach churned. It seemed that even White Fire couldn’t fully overcome an evil god’s curse.

At that moment, a grotesque wail pierced the air.

A Banshee?

The howl Hector had mentioned abruptly morphed into a shriek. The moment it hit my ears, my body slowed.

A debuff, not a direct attack? No!

That wasn’t all.

The Banshee’s elongated tongue speared toward me like a lance. I dodged, then seized it mid-air. The thing was tougher than expected. Even when I yanked hard, it refused to tear. Instead, the Banshee’s body lurched toward me.

I swung it like a flail, clearing the surrounding Beasts. It wasn’t easy because I had to be careful not to hit Seren.

Just a bit more…

The demon horde had thinned significantly. I didn’t have time to check, but the wet crunch of pulverized flesh suggested that Junian was still alive.

Honestly, I surprised myself. Bragging aside, I hadn’t expected to last this long. Was this the value of real combat?

I didn’t mean to disparage my training on Spirit Mountain, but if I had stayed there all the time, it would’ve taken me years to grasp these truths.

But my sluggish body is undeniably nearing its limit. How much longer can I hold out?

Meanwhile, Juan, the mastermind, hadn’t even joined the fray yet.

Then, I spotted a demon creeping up behind Seren. She was so focused, sweating despite the cold, that she didn’t notice.

I hurled the Seven Sins Sword in desperation. It pierced the demon’s skull, killing it instantly. However, losing my weapon shattered the battle’s fragile balance.

Would the demons realize that this was a golden opportunity?

The hovering banshees shrieked in unison, their cries blending into a nightmarish chorus.

This time, the debuff didn’t just slow me. For an instant, my body froze completely.

And then, Juan, who had been watching and waiting, unleashed a black storm from his palm.

I gritted my teeth and forced myself to move, but I was a step too late.

A wave of agony tore through me, followed by a hollowness I had never known.

Then I watched as a part of me—once my flesh—hit the ground.

My right arm had been severed.

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