Chapter 247: Chapter: 247 The will of pride.

Duke Sant stood on the broken ground.

His body was still covered in blood. His whole body was a mess. His ribs were broken and every breath sent pain through his chest like a knife twisting inside him.

But his back was straight.

And in his hand—

He held a sword made of pure white light.

The blade was calm and bright, shining softly in the dull sky.

It did not burn like fire or flash like lightning. Instead it gave off a steady glow, quiet and noble.

Duke Sant looked at the sword for a long moment.

A faint smile slowly appeared on his tired face.

“Finally…” he said in a low voice.

“I have surpassed the Grandmaster stage.”

His voice carried no excitement. Only calm acceptance, like a man who had walked a very long road and finally reached the end.

“And now… I have reached the Ascended Stage.”

His old eyes softened.

Memories still floated inside his mind like fading shadows.

Childhood. Youth. Love. Family. Friends. Dreams.

All of them were there.

He raised the white sword slightly and watched the light move along the blade.

“This… is a Soul Sword.”

His voice was quiet but steady.

The Soul Sword was the mark of someone who had stepped into the legendary Ascended Stage.

It was not simply a weapon.

It was not something that could be forged by a blacksmith.

No.

The Soul Sword was something far deeper.

It was the manifestation of a person’s entire existence.

Not just their life. Not just their memories.

But their soul. Their beliefs. Their karma.

Everything they had been… everything they had done… everything they had chosen in their life gathered together and formed this sword.

Every Soul Sword looked similar at first glance.

A blade of light.

Pure.

Simple.

But the power inside each sword was completely different.

Because every soul was different. Because every life was different.

Duke Sant looked at the sword quietly.

“I… Kamesh Sant…” he said slowly.

“…have lived my entire life with pride.”

His grip on the sword tightened slightly.

“I have never lowered my head to injustice.”

“I have never betrayed my duty.”

“There has never been a stain on my honor… neither as a man… nor as a warrior.”

His voice was calm but firm.

Even now, standing half-dead on a battlefield, there was no doubt in his words.

Even his Genesis Heart carried the same nature. It was the Heart of Pride.

A will that refused to kneel. A will that refused to bend.

And when he finally stepped into the Ascended Stage—

That same pride had shaped his Soul Sword.

Duke Sant slowly lifted the blade and looked at its shining surface.

Inside the faint light, he could almost see the shadows of his life.

A boy swinging a sword in a courtyard.

Young warriors laughing in the academy.

A furious girl slapping him in the middle of a road.

A wedding. A newborn daughter. A son.

Two little grandsons running through the halls of his home.

All of it was there. His childhood.

His youth. His love for his family.

His stubborn pride that refused to bow before anyone.

Even his long old age. Everything.

The sword held all of it. Duke Sant felt it clearly.

That was why his eyes held both nostalgia and melancholy.

Because the sword in his hand was not just a weapon.

It was his life.

Meanwhile—

Not far away—

47 was staring at the white blade. Its black eyes were wide open.

For a moment it did not move.

“This… this…”

Its voice trembled.

“…this is a Soul Sword?”

Shock spread across its face. Disbelief.

Fear. Confusion.

Its mind struggled to accept what it was seeing.

“How… how can this be?”

47’s voice came out broken and uneven.

“How can he… reach the Ascended Stage now?”

Inside Duke Sant’s mind, Remembrance had felt long.

Memories had flowed one after another like a long river.

But in reality—

From the moment Duke Sant placed his hand on his chest…

To the moment he pulled out the sword—

Only a single blink had passed.

One moment he was dying. The next moment—

He had become an Ascended. 47’s hands began to shake slightly.

“No… no…”

Its breathing became heavy.

“This can’t be happening.” Its eyes locked onto the glowing sword again.

But this time—

Fear crawled into its heart.

“No… that is definitely a Soul Sword…”

The hair on the back of its neck stood up.

Cold sweat ran down its body.

The black Death Scythe in its hands suddenly felt very small.

Very weak.

47 knew what a Soul Sword meant.

Anyone who reached the Ascended Stage was no longer on the same level as a Grandmaster.

They were monsters. Walking legends.

And the worst part—

Duke Sant had not even used his Genesis Heart yet. 47 slowly took a step backward.

Then another. Its eyes never left Duke Sant’s calm face.

The old man looked peaceful. Almost nostalgic.

Like someone remembering a distant dream. That calm expression made the fear even worse.

47’s mind raced quickly.

Fight?

Impossible.

Even if it used every trick it had… the chance of winning was almost zero.

Stay?

That meant death. So there was only one choice.

Run. 47 slowly stepped back again.

Then again. It turned its body slowly.

For a brief moment it looked over its shoulder at Duke Sant one last time.

The old man still stood there quietly.

Snow falling around him. White sword in hand.

Like a silent god of war. 47’s heart pounded wildly.

“I’m not dying in this stupid war!”

It suddenly cursed loudly. And then—

BOOM!!!

The ground exploded under its feet.

47 kicked the frozen earth with all its strength and launched itself forward like a rocket.

The air shattered behind it.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

The speed was terrifying.

Sonic booms exploded one after another as it shot across the battlefield.

Snow and ice blasted into the air.

47 did not look back. It flew farther.

Faster.

Away from Duke Sant. Away from that terrifying white sword.

Away from the monster that had just stepped into the Ascended Stage.

Snow continued to fall across the empty battlefield. For a moment after 47 fled, everything became quiet again.

Duke Sant did not chase immediately.

He remained standing in the same place.

The white Soul Sword rested calmly in his hand.

The light from the blade reflected softly on his tired face. He looked at it in silence.

The sword was smooth and pure, like a piece of moonlight shaped into steel.

Duke Sant stared at it for a long time.

Inside that light he could still feel everything.

His childhood. His youth.

His wife’s angry face when she slapped him on that road.

The day Elena was born.

The day she left his house after her wedding.

The laughter of his grandsons.

All of it.

Everything he had lived through was inside this sword.

His fingers tightened slightly around the hilt.

For a moment his eyes became distant again.

Then—

He slowly let out a tired breath.

“Haa…”

The sigh was long and heavy. It carried the weight of many years.

But when he finished exhaling, his eyes became clear again.

“Alright,” he muttered quietly.

“That’s enough.”

The past was the past. The battlefield was the present.

Duke Sant slowly lifted his head. His gaze moved across the snowy horizon.

Far away in the distance—

47 had already become nothing more than a tiny dark speck flying through the gray sky.

Duke Sant smiled faintly. A calm, gentle smile.

“Let’s finish what I started.”

Whosh!

In the next instant—Duke Sant vanished.

The snow where he had been standing scattered into the air. But the old man was already gone.

—

Far away from the battlefield—

47 was flying through the sky with terrifying speed.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The air behind it exploded again and again as it pushed its body to the limit.

The ground below blurred into white streaks.

Its cloak whipped wildly in the wind.

“I’m sure he isn’t in a condition to fight for long,” 47 muttered to itself while flying.

Its breathing was still heavy. Blood ran from a few wounds on its body.

But fear was pushing it forward.

“If I just keep flying at full speed… he won’t be able to catch me.”

It clenched the handle of the Death Scythe tightly.

“He just reached the Ascended Stage. His body is already damaged. There’s no way he can chase me for long.”

Confidence slowly returned to its mind.

“I just need to get far enough away and—”

Whosh.

Something passed beside him. So fast that it did not even make a sound.

47’s words stopped in its throat. Its body froze mid-air.

Slowly…Very slowly…

It turned its head.

Someone was standing in the air directly in front of it.

White sword.

Snow drifting around him.

Calm old eyes.

“You—”

47’s pupils shrank.

“You!!!”

Its voice came out like a scream.

Duke Sant had appeared in front of him as if he had always been there.

No sound. No warning.

Just suddenly—

There.

47’s heart pounded violently.

“How… how did you—”

Duke Sant looked at him quietly. His breathing was still heavy.

Blood still covered his clothes. But his expression was calm.

Almost peaceful.

“I am very tired, you see,” he said softly.

His voice was gentle, almost polite.

“So let’s finish this quickly.”

The words were simple. But to 47 they sounded like a death sentence.

Duke Sant slowly lowered his eyes toward the sword in his hand.

The white blade shone quietly. For a moment he simply looked at it.

Then he raised the sword slowly. His arm moved without hurry.

But the moment the blade rose—Something changed.

Duke Sant spoke softly.

“Genesis Heart…”

He paused.

The wind grew colder.

Snowflakes seemed to freeze in the air.

Then—

A faint red glow began to appear on the pure white blade.

At first it was only a small spark.

Then it spread slowly across the sword like flowing blood.

White light and red light mixed together.

The air around Duke Sant trembled slightly.

His eyes became sharp.

His voice came out calm and steady.

“The Will of Pride.”

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