Chapter 502: Chapter 492: Elvyn Slyne

Sword Saint Elvyn.

A name that resounded throughout the Continent.

Before him, the last person to comprehend the [Extreme Sword] was a Hero who saved humanity three hundred years ago, yet brought profound disaster to all races on the Continent, Link.

However, Elvyn was not born with such astonishing strength.

In fact, before the age of twelve, he was just a farm boy who had never even held a sword hilt.

His father wasn’t exactly diligent, and despite Elvyn helping out early on, the family still struggled to make ends meet.

It’s said their ancestors were once nobles, but by the time it reached father and son, all that remained was the empty surname “Slyne.”

Elvyn’s father was an adventurer in his youth, and he met his mother during those wandering years.

Unfortunately, like most low-level adventurers, his talent limited his future.

No matter how hard he tried, he ended his life as merely a Silver Level Adventurer.

During one mission, he permanently lost his left leg and, unable to afford the expensive Limb Regeneration Potion, could only return to the countryside to become a farmer, with his meager savings.

This man often complained to those around him about the injustices of fate, lamenting that talent divides people into different classes.

By the time Elvyn was ten, these complaints gradually turned into drunken violence.

His drunken father often lashed out at his wife and child, and young Elvyn’s greatest wish was to grow up quickly to protect his mother.

Yet one day, his father suddenly changed.

He stopped drinking and ceased raising his hand against his family.

Though he still frequently went out and was inattentive to farm work, to young Elvyn, life was now much better than before.

Until one night when he was twelve years old.

When his father knocked his mother unconscious with a candlestick and dragged her toward that poorly drawn Ritual Array, Elvyn suddenly realized.

His father had never truly changed; he had merely fallen into an even darker abyss.

The Hand of Death.

Unlike today, where this cult is nearly forgotten, unknown to many ordinary people.

In those days, the name of this cult struck terror. They operated freely within the Kingdom, even some Duke Level nobles secretly worshipped at its altar.

Day after day, Elvyn’s father’s grievances eventually attracted the attention of the Hand of Death cult.

These heart-manipulating cultists easily assimilated this disillusioned man as an outer member, filling his empty spirit with promises of an illusory afterlife.

To pursue the glory promised by the cult, to further himself in this dark organization, this bewitched father decided to sacrifice his own wife to the Death God, to prove his devotion.

The young boy witnessing this knew that at this moment, he alone could save his mother.

He drew his father’s treasured adventurer’s longsword with trembling hands, its blade aimed at the man he called father.

Although his father was hampered, not as strong as before, he had once been a Silver Level Adventurer.

At first, Elvyn’s sneak attack was easily thwarted, and he was kicked away.

However, his swordsmanship grew at an astonishing speed, from being forced to dodge his father’s axe to being able to block attacks head-on, and finally parrying to pierce his father’s throat. The entire process lasted only a few minutes.

Elvyn was precisely the kind of genius his father had resented all his life.

After that, Elvyn became an adventurer; he was highly talented, and as his strength grew, so did his income—but some wounds cannot be healed by money.

His father’s betrayal completely shattered his mother’s spirit, and this poor woman died in despair when Elvyn was fifteen.

Thus, although the boy gained strength, he lost what he wanted to protect.

He left the place of sorrows, devoting all his energy to the way of the sword. He traveled all over the Kingdom, undertaking various missions, from slaying Demon Race spies in the army to guarding merchant ships, and even surviving a terrible shipwreck.

A mermaid saved him.

She did not drag him to the depths with her enchanting song like other mermaids, but led him to a deserted island.

In the days that followed, Elvyn taught her the Universal Language; she brought him many strange things from the ocean floor, and they became good friends.

Sadly, when Elvyn realized she wanted to keep him on that deserted island forever, he managed to sneak onto a passing ship.

However, this fate was not meant to end there, as he soon discovered he was cursed.

Afterward, whenever he set sail, sea beasts followed and attacked. After realizing the cause was himself, the future Sword Saint reluctantly returned to the Continent.

Back on land, Elvyn continued his quest in the way of the sword.

He visited famous swordmasters everywhere, sometimes humbly seeking guidance, sometimes drawing swords.

As victory and defeat were decided one after another, the name “Dual Swords Elvyn” began to spread through taverns.

Until he once again encountered the cult that changed his life’s trajectory.

At this time, the Hand of Death was at its peak; no longer satisfied with sporadic secret sacrifices, they dared to plan on sacrificing all the residents of an entire city!

The Elf Delegation passing by got caught up in this crisis.

In front of the blood-stained altar, Elvyn rescued Galadriel Dusk Song from the hands of the Death Priest.

The two fought side by side, ultimately shattering this earth-shattering conspiracy.

This battle shocked the kingdom’s leadership about the threat of the cult, prompting a full-scale purge.

Elvyn thus gained the friendship of the elves, earned access to the Elf Forest, and even had the opportunity to be personally instructed in swordsmanship by the Elf King.

There, he learned many things, and besides swordsmanship, his favorite, “Stepping on the Moon,” was also taught by the Elf King.

In the moonlit elven courtyard, it was common to see the young man sparring with the Elf King’s daughter.

Unfortunately, the good times didn’t last. When Galadriel’s eyes began to shimmer like those of the mermaid girl years ago, he found a chance to leave the Elf Forest to avoid impacting his sword-drawing speed.

In the following years, he traveled across small towns and cities in the kingdom, relentlessly hunting down the cult.

Until one rainy night, in an abandoned monastery, he personally slew the High Priest of the Hand of Death beneath his sword.

It was during this deadly duel that he finally integrated all he had learned in his life, with his sword edge breaking through evil magic, realizing the legendary “Extreme Sword.”

That year, Elvyn was only 27 years old, Palace Level.

As the cult waned, the honorific title “Sword Saint” began to resonate far and wide.

When it became difficult to trace the cult’s footprint, Elvyn gradually adopted dozens of orphans who had lost their parents because of the cult.

Most of these children eventually chose to become craftsmen or scholars; only a few, who showed talent in swordsmanship, followed him in training.

However, swords are indifferent, leaving only Shi Wu to continue on.

…

His body was pierced by several bloody crystal spears, and the sound of the wind roared past his ears as he fell.

In the final moments of his life, fleeting visions of his life passed before Elvyn’s eyes.

“What a pity…” thought the Sword Saint, as his consciousness gradually blurred, “If only I had 20% more power, I would have been able to slay that Blood Race Emperor’s head with one strike.”

But ultimately, the human body has its limits, and even the Werewolf Transformation Potion is nothing more than an enhanced version of frenzy techniques.

In this final moment, Elvyn inexplicably recalled his father’s old complaints—the world truly isn’t fair.

But at least he had given it his all.

When his consciousness sank into boundless darkness, a strange sensation followed. It was as if waves rippled over him, gradually dissolving something heavy, turning his entire being as light as a feather.

Is this death?

Not bad at all.

…

“Finally! We’re adding a new member to the Mushroom Race! Mycelium Lord says Number Fourteen has exceptional potential, and just as Number Four is being reassigned, I surely need such talent!”

“What do you mean your team? Did you even ask Number Fourteen’s opinion?”

“Number Two, what was that supposed to mean?”

“What do you mean? Clearly, our squad contributed the most in the last battle; Number Fourteen should join us first!”

“Contribute? That thing came crashing down and everyone got wiped out, what difference does it make?”

“At least it proves my command is better, making me more suitable to lead the Mushroom Race!”

Many voices noisily drilled into his brain.

Telepathy?

Not dead?

Who are these people, arguing using telepathy…

Elvyn felt as if he were covered in something heavy; was it a blanket?

Using a little strength, he pushed open the mycelium cocoon around him.

Then, he saw a group of… Puki?!

The Puki, who were originally tussling into a heap, stopped their actions in unison, eagerly surrounding him.

“Look! He’s out! He’s out!”

“Finally emerged, we waited half a day!”

Number One Puki and Number Two Puki squeezed forward together, “Welcome to the Mushroom Race, Number Fourteen! From now on, you’ll be like our little brother!”

Elvyn stared blankly at these mushroom creatures, then lowered his mushroom cap, feeling his two short legs and four tentacles.

What the hell?

Do people become Puki after they die???

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep