Chapter 170: Beatrice’s Sword (1)

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Kwaaak.

Black hands coiled around Carl’s body, violently twisting his flesh.

As if wringing out blood like water from laundry.

Jureuk.

A black magician’s smile deepened at the sight of bright red blood pouring from beneath NOX’s mask.

In the midst of it, Carl slowly raised his head and asked in a voice strained with pain.

“You, what are you…”

“Ah.”

In response to Carl’s question, the black magician raised both arms and let out a low chuckle.

“Soon, my name will cover the continent. Velua, the Bringer of Death.”

“Velua?”

“This is only the beginning. The rage and suffering we’ve endured will become a raging inferno that sweeps across the continent. Who would dare block my path?”

Thunk.

As the black magician Velua stomped his foot on the ground, the demonic energy shrouded in darkness began to surge violently.

“Black magicians must seek coexistence to survive? That fool who calls himself the Lord of the Gray Magic Tower speaks nonsense. This world rejected us first—why should we be the ones to extend our hand?”

The smile on his lips quickly twisted into fury, and the once-slack demonic energy was pulled taut.

With a mere flick of his finger, the raging flame would reduce this forest—and Leipzig—with it to ashes.

“Come forth, Knight of Beatrice! The sword cast into the deepest depths of hell for tearing the saintess’ throat and shattering her heart! Let us raze this continent…!”

Velua, who had been chanting with a clenched, raised fist, suddenly froze in place.

His gaze shifted toward Carl, still bound by the black hands.

“…How are you still alive? You’re being crushed by a pressure strong enough to flatten iron.”

“Maybe it’s because my body is tougher than iron.”

Carl, dangling in midair, suddenly jerked his head up.

A pair of blazing red eyes shone through the gaps in NOX’s mask, staring directly at Velua.

“Ugh, ughhh…”

The Demonic Flame of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art.

The presence was on an entirely different level compared to one who merely dabbled in black magic, and Velua instinctively staggered back, trembling at the lips.

Pudeuk, pudeudeuk.

Carl casually pulled at his limbs.

The black hands that had restrained him only moments ago were torn apart, returning his body to freedom.

Tuk.

Landing lightly on the ground, Carl straightened his outfit and sorted through what Velua had said.

“So black magicians have begun to move for revenge on the continent?”

“You, what are you?”

“There’s no need for you to know that.”

Seogk.

Carl lightly swung his hand.

An intangible slash cleaved the air and sliced cleanly through Velua’s neck.

His body collapsed backward, his life snuffed out without even receiving an answer.

Carl scratched his cheek as he looked around.

“Now the problem is how to deal with this.”

The summoning spell was already in progress.

Its catalyst was most likely the blood and lives of the black magicians.

Disrupting an already activated ritual was a high-level task.

Sreung.

Still, not impossible—Carl slowly drew his sword and focused the demonic energy of the Heavenly Demon Divine Art.

Paaaat.

Aura Blade. A black sword aura manifested, forming a distinct blade.

Had Carius or Darius witnessed this, they would have been utterly shocked.

The Aura Blade was the exclusive domain of those who had transcended the master level.

Shiak─!

The Heavenly Thunder Sword traced an unfeeling arc as it swung.

Its overwhelmingly dense blade aura obliterated everything in its path.

The corpses of the black magicians, the magic circle used for the ritual, and the altar where sacrifices had been offered—all gone.

Kwaaaang!

All that remained was a crater as if a meteor had struck, with Carl standing tall and unscathed in the middle.

Fwik.

Carl casually shook off the dust from his sword and turned his body.

Now that the mastermind had been dealt with, the beasts roaming the territory and this forest should also return to their places.

The rest would sort itself out once he returned and waited for normalization to resume.

“I’ll have to start with disciplinary action when I get back.”

Carl nodded slightly.

It was strange that NOX hadn’t detected the presence of the black magicians.

Either there was a problem with NOX’s surveillance net, or someone had been negligent.

If there was no structural problem, he intended to refine the system further.

He couldn’t allow something like this to happen again.

“…”

Just as he was leaping through the trees again, Carl came to a halt at the sense of incongruity beside him.

When he slowly raised his head, all he saw was a pitch-dark sky.

‘No moon?’

Tonight was a half-moon night.

Two split moons should have been hanging in the sky, but there was nothing up there.

Only a darkness deeper than black was staring down at him.

“…”

It must have been a trick cast by the black magicians.

That would explain why the scenery hadn’t changed despite his forward movement.

So Carl opened his mouth to address the presence pressing in behind him.

“Who are you?”

-……

He slowly turned his head.

Its exact shape was unclear.

It looked like a formless mass of thick, writhing black smoke.

‘Velua said…’

Knight of Beatrice.

The sword cast into the deepest depths of hell for tearing the saintess’ throat and crushing her heart.

Beatrice was a name even Carl knew well.

After all, the road stretching from the entrance of the Bavarian Academy to the plaza was famously called Beatrice Street.

The greatest saintess in history, who had once saved the continent from the grasp of darkness.

Older and more famous than even the Ancient Heroes.

However, aside from her act of saving the continent, little else about her life was known.

Whether it was ancient or simply lost, no one knew where it had come from or how it had disappeared.

“You called yourself the Knight of Beatrice, didn’t you.”

Thunk.

Perhaps in response to the name Beatrice, a ripple spread across the smoke.

“If you were summoned by the black magicians, then return. They all died by my hand.”

Carl rested his hand on the hilt of his sword and answered in a calm voice.

He had killed the last black magician, Velua, and destroyed the magic circle, the altar, and even the sacrifices—yet the summoning spell had not broken?

It was said that the most vicious and powerful of black magic rituals were those cast by offering the caster’s own life.

Ten black magicians had sacrificed their lives, so naturally someone that powerful must have been summoned.

Given their bold declaration to burn the continent, even Carl couldn’t guess the summoned being’s strength.

-…trice.

“What?”

-…Beatrice, where is she?

The smoke rippled, spitting out words as though from a human mouth.

Carl furrowed one eye, troubled by the question from the unknown presence.

‘What a headache.’

What should he even say?

Carl fell into thought.

Beatrice, saintess, ancient figure, sword, death, …betrayal?

He was certain he couldn’t just say that Beatrice was dead.

‘This being asked where Beatrice is.’

That meant it didn’t know she had died.

If he uttered that Beatrice had died, there was a risk it would go berserk or fall into madness.

So Carl calmly chose his words and replied with composure.

“I don’t know.”

—I don’t know…

The smoke echoed Carl’s answer.

But it wasn’t just once.

—I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know…

It repeated and murmured the phrase endlessly, like a resounding echo.

—I said I don’t knooooooow─!!!!!!!

A sudden roar erupted.

It carried such force it made the entire forest tremble, like a lion’s roar.

Carl shielded his ears and body with his internal energy, furrowed his brow tightly, and slowly gripped the hilt of his sword.

‘Did I mess up?’

If he sensed even the slightest threat, he would not hesitate to swing his sword.

—I don’t know. No, I do know. I killed her with my own hands. Beatrice, who smiled innocently, knowing nothing. Even as she was dying, she never lost her smile. She looked down at me with eyes that said she understood everything. Then…

The wavering smoke stilled and slowly lifted its head.

“Why did I kill her?”

“……”

Carl held his breath.

He was so tense, it was as though he couldn’t breathe.

The presence that had felt faint and foggy now became clear, and its voice no longer echoed—it was a direct, audible voice ringing in his ears.

“Answer me. Why did I kill her?”

“…How should I know?”

Carl narrowed his eyes.

Why was he even engaging in this meaningless exchange?

“How could I possibly know that?”

“You don’t know. You know nothing.”

The face that emerged through the smoke sneered faintly.

Pale as a corpse, with faded blonde hair falling around it.

The eyes that looked at Carl shimmered faintly with a pale blue hue.

“I’ll ask again.”

Sreung.

When the man reached out, a sword emerged from the smoke.

Dark blotches of blood had spread across its pure white blade.

Carl easily recognized it as Beatrice’s—the saintess’—blood.

“What reason do you have to live?”

“…Haa.”

Carl let out a long sigh.

Ignoring the unreasonable question, he grumbled at the black magicians he had just killed.

“Those damn bastards left behind one hell of a mess.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“You asked why I should live?”

Carl also slowly drew his sword.

The Heavenly Thunder Sword emerged through the darkness, pushing away the surrounding smoke with its clear presence.

“Questions of life and death are asked by the strong to the weak.”

Carl tilted his head and spoke to the man before him.

“Let me ask you then—are you stronger than I am?”

Shiiak─!

There was no sign of a sword being swung.

But a long slash came first, striking the spot where Carl had just stood.

Fssssh.

Black flames took his place.

Escaping the man’s strike with a flicker of movement, Carl perched atop a nearby tree and looked down.

“You called yourself the Sword of Beatrice. I don’t particularly want to fight you.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“So, you’re going to kill me for that?”

“The Sword of Beatrice carries such meaning.”

“…You say that, when you’re the one who killed Beatrice?”

KWAANG!

An enormous shockwave smashed the area.

Carl leapt away and raced through the forest, but bit his lip at the unchanging scenery.

‘The space is sealed. A different kind of barrier? Or spatial magic?’

Was he trapped in a spell created by the black magicians?

Or had this man before him constructed it?

His brothers were waiting for him, so he had intended to return quickly—but at this rate, escape wouldn’t be easy.

“…Looks like I have no choice.”

Carl let out a short breath, withdrew the Heavenly Demon Divine Art, and activated the Primordial Unity Divine Art.

As gray energy flared across his entire body, he spoke toward the man approaching him.

“I can’t just let a deranged killer loose in my territory.”

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