Chapter 298: Side Story – Vlad of Soara? (2)

A world painted only in black and white.

Beneath the Black Moon of lies and the White Moon of truth, at the moment that radiant boy was born, the necromancer lying on the ground opened his eyes in disbelief.

‘T-that is…!’

The suddenly taller stature, the firm muscles, and the golden hair shining magnificently beneath the moonlight.

But the necromancer was not looking at that dazzling appearance.

What he saw were those blue eyes so intense that they were painful to look at.

‘Vlad of Soara!’

Vlad of Soara was there.

Exactly as he had looked when he wiped away the black tears of that woman desperately searching for her child.

The necromancer who had cast that curse through a puppet more than twenty years ago remembered perfectly who had destroyed his black magic.

“……!”

And that golden beast moved once more.

Just like back then.

After destroying his curse, he advanced to wipe away the black tears of a young girl.

Slash!

Along with a white trail, an assassin’s head flew into the air.

“……!”

With an expression of complete incomprehension, the head began spinning as it rose.

The last thing that floating head, hanging like a moon, saw was the geyser of blood erupting from its neck and, beneath it, the figure of Vlad holding the young girl.

“I-it’s Aura!”

Just as someone shouted, a white world flowed from the boy’s closed left eye.

The proof that symbolized knights capable of surpassing human limits.

A white so intense it was difficult even to look at flashed like lightning around his eyes.

“Follow me!”

Emil, bearing Vlad’s appearance, roughly grabbed Lenia’s wrist.

“I’ll open the way!”

Emil and Lenia were surrounded by dozens of assassins.

The gleaming blades had momentarily stopped, confused by the unexpected situation.

And the young beast did not let that opportunity slip away.

“Get out of my way!”

A dragon’s cruelty never hesitates to tear apart its prey’s weaknesses.

The dragon’s sharp fangs sank into motionless enemies.

The screams of the assassins began to pile up behind the rapid sword strikes.

“Ughhh!”

“Aaaagh!”

The first was cut down.

The second was pierced deeply.

The third received a fatal wound.

And the last one—

“Kugh!”

A slash across his waist scattered his entrails through the air.

Emil’s swordsmanship was still unrefined.

That was precisely why it was more savage.

The man’s eyes trembled violently, unable to accept that reality, but Emil simply kicked the collapsing torso aside and continued forward.

‘I can do it!’

Surrounded by countless enemies, Emil felt a euphoria rising from the depths of his chest.

Because his father’s sword, the one he had never managed to imitate, was unfolding before his very eyes.

‘Now I can!’

Each death made it clearer.

Each bloodbath made it more vivid.

And thus, his own path of the sword gradually began to take shape.

Only then did Emil understand something.

His father’s sword had grown by feeding on countless deaths.

“Move!”

Deeper.

Faster.

The fangs of that young dragon who had finally found his path grew sharper and sharper.

“I said move!”

At the same time, the blue in his eyes became increasingly intense.

His pupils had already split vertically as he looked at the assassin holding Hampton.

“…Hah.”

The man’s breath froze white.

He tried to move.

But those dragon eyes permitted no action.

Just like those poor Frostbreath Rabbits that exhaled one last white breath before dying.

Slash!

A white trajectory passed over Hampton’s head.

The killing intent was so fierce that even Hampton shut his eyes.

Then he heard a familiar voice shout urgently.

“Idiot! What are you doing standing there?!”

After shoving Lenia toward Hampton, Emil shouted,

“Run!”

In the direction Emil pointed stood a black-haired man.

With a banner resembling the night sky planted in the ground, he remained kneeling on one knee while silently praying.

Was he a mage?

A knight?

A priest?

It was impossible to tell.

As he recited quietly, he continued declaring truths and lies to the two moons hanging in the sky.

‘N-now!’

The necromancer watched the situation with frantic eyes.

Quickly, he crawled toward one of the corpses Emil had left behind and placed a hand on it.

‘As long as I have a corpse!’

He was an expert at manipulating bodies.

He had been recognized for that ability and was serving his current master because of it.

The same necromancer who, more than twenty years ago, had made so many women shed black tears.

As he gripped the assassin’s corpse and recited a dark incantation, the man who kept one eye closed did not allow it.

[The dead do not rise. That is a lie.]

“Aaaagh!”

Joseph’s world, backed by absolute legitimacy, descended upon the necromancer’s shoulders.

A terrifying pressure that could not be resisted.

Only then did the necromancer understand the true nature of Joseph’s power.

But it was already too late.

[And I hate lies.]

Joseph’s world did not move through the sword.

It was a world that discerned truth from falsehood.

A world born from someone who had fought desperately to survive with a weak body.

[So you will have to pay the price.]

“Aaaaaaaaaah!”

It was a world that wielded legitimacy instead of a sword.

“Haaaaaah!”

The necromancer’s body began to be brutally crushed.

What oppressed him was the Swordmaster’s Rule, one of the highest laws ever created by humanity.

The sin of trying to crush a young possibility.

The sin of trying to return death to a place where it did not belong.

The weight of those sins crushed his body.

“Why?! Why only me?!”

The necromancer, who had understood the black-and-white world, raised a finger with all his strength.

It pointed directly at Joseph Bayezid.

“You also… returned from death!”

To challenge the black-and-white world, one had to present an objection grounded in legitimacy.

It was possible because Joseph manifested his world through an honorable banner rather than a sword.

“You are no different from me!”

At those words, Joseph opened the eye he had kept closed.

A pale man beneath the light of the Black Moon.

And indeed, just as the necromancer said, Joseph should not exist in this world either.

[But I am different.]

However, the necromancer had overlooked another one of his sins.

[Because I already paid the proper price.]

“…What?”

The necromancer’s eyes widened.

He could not understand Joseph’s answer.

Within the rules of black magic, that answer made absolutely no sense.

After all, necromancers were beings who deceived death to return the dead to life.

A world where the very concept of a legitimate price could not exist.

But Joseph was different.

[I put that there myself.]

Joseph’s fingers pointed toward the Black Moon hanging in the sky.

[Containing the souls of children, using a fragment of the Perfect Dragon as material, and together with the Swordmaster of this era.]

A man who only became a knight at the very instant he reached death.

A man who ran to protect children, did what he had to do where he had to do it, and ultimately offered up his life as the price.

[But you do not know me.]

Yet no one believed it was he who had raised the Black Moon into the sky.

No one in this world knew that Joseph Bayezid was the last knight of the Founding King.

[That is why I am here now.]

It was nameless glory obtained in place of radiant fame.

What he left behind were deeds that would never be recorded in history.

Thus stood Joseph Bayezid, the noblest knight in this world, who had never let even a single honor coin fall.

[Now that you understand, die.]

At that declaration, the necromancer began to be crushed.

Even as his eyes seemed ready to burst from their sockets and his spine bent grotesquely.

Yet not even under such punishment was he able to resist.

“Ghk! Aaaaargh!”

The necromancer’s body, crushed beneath the weight of his sins, gradually flattened.

At the same time, countless footprints began to mark his back.

Dozens of black tears shed by those women celebrated his death.

[…Yes, Vlad. That’s how it should be.]

After delivering that legitimate judgment, Joseph looked up and watched the young dragon fighting fiercely in the distance.

[If it is you, then you must do it.]

Beneath the black-and-white world was a young dragon unleashed.

But despite that savage ferocity, a smile appeared on Joseph’s face.

Because behind that dragon were the children he was trying to protect.

“Damn it!”

The situation was extremely dangerous.

He had taken advantage of the element of surprise, but to maintain that momentum he needed constant speed.

However, now his steps had stopped.

And blocking Emil’s path was the leader of the assassins, with a dagger pressed against Renvar’s neck.

“…If you move, this boy dies.”

The leader’s expression was completely serious.

And for good reason.

Beside him lay the necromancer’s corpse, twisted into a monstrous shape.

“If you want to save your friend, tell that man to open a path for us.”

Neither the mission nor the money mattered anymore.

Now they stood before a mysterious black-haired man and a blond boy who had grown in an impossible way.

The priority was to retreat and survive another day.

That was why the leader intended to escape using Renvar as a hostage.

“Fuuuh…”

But Emil did not answer.

‘I don’t have much time left.’

No one had explained it to him.

But he could feel that the time he could remain in this form was running out.

‘My eyes hurt too much.’

With a single honor coin, he could only reproduce Vlad at sixteen years old.

On top of that, he was using Aura, even if only in a rudimentary manner.

The strain on his body was immense.

“What are you waiting for?! Do you want to watch your friend die?!”

Receiving no response, the leader pressed the dagger harder against Renvar’s neck.

“Ghk…”

Blood began to flow from Renvar’s neck and drip onto the ground.

“E-Emil.”

He was trying to stay strong.

But the fear was obvious on his face.

Even though they were not particularly close, Renvar had risked his life for the people of Soara.

And Emil had the responsibility to protect him.

“…Seizing the initiative by taking advantage of unexpected movements.”

Negotiate?

Could he save Renvar through negotiation?

No.

Emil knew perfectly well that it was impossible.

“…Controlling the battlefield through perception that is always one step ahead.”

Once he made his decision, white lightning began to burst from his left eye.

It was the last Aura he could squeeze out.

The final drop of strength he had left.

Seeing the trail of blood running down from Emil’s left eye, the leader of the assassins began to grow nervous.

[That is the principle of One-Strike Kill.]

The air began to compress.

Everything converged toward the boy who was drawing himself inward like an arrow ready to be fired.

When the stretched bowstring reached its limit, Emil’s eyes snapped open.

“You bastard!”

The muscles in the leader’s hand holding the dagger moved for only an instant.

It was such a tiny movement that no one should have been able to see it.

But Emil’s dragon eyes and the borrowed world he now inhabited allowed him to.

“You killed him, you idiot!”

The man’s words no longer reached his ears.

Because there was a sensation that dominated the entire world.

Because he was absolutely certain that he could do it.

Within the black-and-white world, he felt as though he were the only one capable of moving.

In that fraction of a second divided into hundreds of moments, someone shouted from a world unimaginably far away.

[Now!]

Bang!

The released bowstring violently propelled the arrow.

As the tip of the sword born from a single point shot forward and drew a brilliant line like a bolt of lightning, the black-and-white world began to split apart.

‘Watch carefully, Emil. This is the true principle of One-Strike Kill.’

There was the path of the sword he had seen as a child.

That technique his father had shown him once while speaking about the principle of One-Strike Kill.

The swordsmanship he had always admired and dreamed of reaching.

And as he watched his friends running toward him with their arms spread wide, the boy finally understood that he had reached the very edge of that sword.