novelraw Chapter 90 : Chapter 90
Chapter 90 : Chapter 90
Chapter 90. Battle (2)
The cursed spear Turabak ripped through the night, shrieking as it cut the air.
Yuri twisted midair, narrowly evading.
The spear slammed into the ground, sending the earth heaving. Rock and soil exploded outward.
Where it struck, the ground blackened.
Landing lightly, Yuri looked up toward the ramparts.
There stood a monstrous figure under the moonlight, smiling.
Red eyes gleamed in the dark. Twin white horns glowed faintly as they caught the lunar glow.
Tension rippled across her face.
“…White Horn,” she muttered.
His form was recorded in the Maaekgyeong—the demon codex every knight of crown or church memorized.
There was no mistaking it.
She’d encountered an Apostle of the End.
The manual said she should withdraw and summon reinforcements.
But leaving Gawain behind was impossible.
A flood of dread overtook her.
Should she risk everything to fight alone? He was only in his nascent stage—maybe there was a chance.
Her thoughts tangled—until White Horn spread his wings.
Moonlight vanished, swallowed by sudden darkness.
Only those blood-red eyes glowed in the false midnight.
His chilling voice rang out:
“Why do you hesitate? Here is your chance to slay an Apostle. Come, mortal—strike with all you have.”
He drifted down from the ramparts.
Yuri bit her lip.
Fighting wasn’t the priority. She had to secure Gawain’s safety first.
She turned her back on him—And a voice stopped her.
“Hold it there, girl. Resolve things with Lord Mapheltan before you take another step.”
At the gate sat a middle-aged man, pipe in hand, watching her.
Yuri swallowed hard.
“…The Sword Demon. Hakain.”
He gave a languid smile.
“Oh? You know me?”
Hakain was a first-class criminal, deemed irredeemable by the Church—a top-tier execution target.
No knight could fail to recognize him.
By duty, she should arrest or slay him.
But Hakain was far too strong.
Even a Saint Knight would struggle to subdue him.
Yuri’s face tightened.
“So you not only slew a cardinal, now you’ve stooped to serving an Apostle?”
Years ago, Hakain butchered a cardinal of the Holy State. For that, he was branded a heretic of the highest order.
Still hunted to this day.
He exhaled a cloud of smoke.
“And what of your prince? A parricide who slew his own mother. Seems he’s a step above me in sin.”
Yuri’s face twisted.
“Watch your tongue. His Highness was ensnared in a plot.”
“Everyone has their story. I’m no different.”
“You dare speak of yourself in the same breath as His Highness? Insolence!”
Hakain shook his head slowly.
“So rigid, these knights. No wonder I hate talking to your kind.”
Yuri drew her rapier.
A long, slender blade meant for piercing.
“Enough talk. Stand aside.”
“I will—if the Apostle permits it.”
Hakain glanced at Mapheltan, who had already landed.
Mapheltan spoke.
“I won’t repeat myself. To reach the prince, you must kill me first.”
Yuri’s eyes snapped to him.
Though tense, she forced a smile.
“Protect him? Fools. He is beloved of the Great Saint. He needs no protection. You wretches will soon stand before his judgment.”
Mapheltan’s grin widened.
“Strange, isn’t it? By now, Gawain should have come. I’ve bared my power for all to feel. Yet inside the castle… silence.”
Yuri felt the same unease.
Her fists clenched.
“…What have you done to His Highness?”
Mapheltan shrugged.
“Find out yourself.”
After a moment’s hesitation, Yuri resolved herself.
Her core spun fiercely, unleashing translucent aura across her body.
Mapheltan’s eyes curved in delight.
‘Aura, freely radiated. A fine opponent to test myself against.’
He wrenched Turabak from the earth just as Yuri launched forward, swift as an arrow.
The distance vanished.
“White Horn—!”
Her rapier, wreathed in aura, aimed for his eye.
Mapheltan didn’t move.
Too slow, she thought. Victory was hers.
Her blade pierced—
But instead of flesh, only black mist scattered.
His form vanished.
Landing, Yuri whipped her gaze around.
Gone. No trace.
“An illusion…?”
Some demons wielded such powers.
She uncorked a vial of holy water and drank, shielding her from most hallucinations.
Her aura flared outward, blanketing the field.
Still, no trace.
Frustration mounted.
Hakain’s voice drifted.
“Best not use Chimya this time, my lord. It’d be too one-sided.”
Chimya—the power to erase one’s presence, becoming one with shadow. Stronger than invisibility, undetectable even to masters.
Yuri’s eyes darted desperately.
Then—“Indeed. Too easy,” a voice whispered, right behind her.
Before she could react—Crack!
Pain seared her back as her aura shattered.
She slammed into the ground.
A sneak attack.
If not for her aura, she’d be dead.
Rising quickly, sweat streamed down her face.
“…How?”
Mapheltan smirked.
“The night and I are one.”
Again he vanished.
Her throat went dry.
Crack!
Agony split her ribs.
Turabak stabbed from nowhere, shattering her aura again and flinging her across the ground.
Despair closed in. She couldn’t fight what she couldn’t see.
“This… cowardice…”
He chuckled.
“To a demon, that is praise. Still, I’ll humor you. We’ll fight your way—from the front.”
In other words, he’d toyed with her enough.
Her body trembled.
“…You mock me?”
“In a way.”
She roared, aura bursting around her, and darted like lightning.
Each pass cut new wounds into his body, black blood spraying.
Her speed and precision grew, afterimages trailing like clones.
Mapheltan was impressed.
‘Fast. Each strike at a vital point.’
He blocked, barely. But catching her outright was impossible.
The skill of a top knight was formidable—But still within his expectations.
He spun Turabak, grasping the shaft mid-length.
The cursed spear howled, generating massive gusts—Hakain’s revolving spear art.
Her afterimages were swallowed by the wind.
Dark mist coiled around him like a storm.
She could no longer close in.
“Is that all your tricks?” he taunted.
She pulled back, troubled.
With a smirk, he spun faster.
The air shook, black fire wreathing the spear.
Hakain tapped his pipe.
“Do it.”
Mapheltan hurled Turabak.
It tore through space itself, unstoppable.
If it hit, she was dead.
Yuri’s senses sharpened to the extreme.
Her aura barrier tracked its path.
At the last instant, she hurled herself aside.
The spear screamed past, vanishing into darkness, black flames trailing.
She exhaled in relief—Until a voice chilled her.
“You should have stayed wary.”
She looked up—too late.
Mapheltan was already before her.
“Damn!”
A shadowy hand clamped over her face, lifting her easily.
Their eyes locked through his fingers.
“It’s over, mortal,” he said.
A squeeze, and her skull would burst.
Yet her expression was calm. Even smiling faintly.
She whispered,
“…So young, for an Apostle.”
He chuckled.
“Hiding a trump card?”
“You realized too late.”
Her palms pressed together.
Light erupted from every wound she had dealt him earlier.
His eyes widened.
“No—”
The blast drowned his voice.
One by one, the cuts exploded in a chain reaction.
Black blood sprayed everywhere.
His grip slackened.
She dropped to the ground.