The Genius Son-in-law of the Swordmaster Household—Blessed by Authority

Chapter 128 : Sword Fiend (1)

Sword Fiend (1)

After roaming across the Valley of Souls for six days,

Ian succeeded in drawing the attention of the Sword Fiend.

He was now cautiously observing Ian from a considerable distance.

The next step was to lure the Sword Fiend closer.

He needed to narrow the distance further, whether to safely capture the Sword Fiend or to attempt a conversation.

Two things were necessary for that.

'First, a surefire bait to lure the Sword Fiend.'

The Sword Fiend was obsessed with collecting all manner of cursed and demon swords.

He was willing to risk his own life for that purpose.

So, to lure him in, Ian needed to directly display a curse or demon sword that would tempt the Sword Fiend.

'This part is easy.'

Ian just had to perform "Sword Spirit Release" with Vladiark and destroy one more Necropolis.

If he showed the Sword Fiend how Vladiark's blade summoned tendrils that sucked up the dense malice of the Necropolis like noodles, the Sword Fiend would have no choice but to develop an intense curiosity and interest in Vladiark.

A monstrous tendril that devours wicked malice—and a sword that summons it.

A collector like the Sword Fiend would be unable to resist investigating the mechanism behind Vladiark's power.

After all, it might be a once-in-a-lifetime chance to acquire the strongest demon sword ever.

'And second...'

He had to show an opening.

A careless side, a weakness, an injury, anything.

By deliberately acting weak in some way, Ian needed to give the impression that he was not such a difficult opponent for the Sword Fiend.

Only then would the Sword Fiend bolden up and approach Ian more aggressively.

'No reason to delay. Let's finish this today.'

*Squish. Squish. Squish.*

Ian briskly stepped out of the swamps toward the next Necropolis.

*Thud! KABOOM!!*

And as soon as he arrived, he engaged in battle with the necromancers.

One of them cried out boldly.

"Apostle of the Outer God! I'll make even your bones serve as slaves for eternity!"

For some reason, Ian was being called an Apostle of the Outer God.

*Shhhhhh!!*

*Clatter! Clatter!!*

*Hssssssss...!*

A storm of icy spears rained down from above.

Undead summons charged in endlessly.

Clumps of malice shaped like skulls came at him from all directions.

"Hup!"

*Crack! Bang! Swoosh!*

This Necropolis had quite a few strong ones.

There were more than five 7th-circle mages, and even two 8th-circle mages.

It seemed the necromancers of the Valley of Souls had chosen this city as their final line of defense and set up a united front.

"Apostle of the Outer God! W-We concede!"

However, the peak Grandmaster rank was so overwhelmingly superior that even top-tier necromancers were rendered insignificant.

"... Please! Have mercy!"

More than five 7th-circle mages? Ridiculous.

It would take at least three times that number to be a match for Ian.

Two 8th-circles? They, too, were not enough to face Ian.

If both had reached the absolute pinnacle of the 8th circle, maybe Ian would have had a tough fight—

But as it was, the two were only intermediate in the 8th circle.

Even if there had been four, not just two, they still couldn't have won against someone like Ian armed with divine artifacts like Vladiark or Heliodin.

"Sword Spirit Release. Vladiark."

*KUAHHHH!!!*

"... Ah. I can't believe this."

In the end, they all became food for Vladiark.

They probably gathered their strength for one last stand to survive, but from Ian's perspective, it simply meant the prey had gathered nicely in one bowl.

'I really feasted this time.'

It was Vladiark that ate them, but Ian felt full as well.

"Gah, gahhk...!"

However, he had received a major wound in his side.

He knelt down amid the ruins of the Necropolis, clutching his side.

The injury was intentional, but the pain was excruciating.

"Ah, aagh...!"

Ian didn't hold back a bit as he expressed his agony.

He had just shown plenty of Vladiark's power to the Sword Fiend, so now it was time to display vulnerability.

'I can still feel his gaze.'

The Sword Fiend was still carefully watching Ian from a distance.

So Ian put on the greatest acting performance of his life.

"Ughhhhh...!"

*Shhhhhh...!*

His side was burning with green flames.

He wanted to act hurt, but the real pain made acting unnecessary.

No matter how different their ranks might be...

An 8th-circle mage could be considered equal to a Grandmaster as a swordsman.

It was truly the highest level, so taking a direct hit hurt, obviously.

*Crackle, crackle...!*

"GUAAAAH...!"

So acting wasn't hard.

No, at this point, the pain was so real that he was crawling on the ground.

The green flames burrowed into his bones and organs, spreading through his veins—it was agonizing beyond measure.

"Ughhhhh...!"

Ian drew a bit of holy power from the Saintess to prevent the green flames from spreading further within his body.

"Huff, huff...!"

Breathing was a little easier, but the pain still made his teeth grind together.

'Ugh... Even so... If I'm going to do this, I have to do it right.'

Simply scorching his side might not be enough to make the Sword Fiend let his guard down.

To create a more convincing opening, he'd have to display even worse injuries.

*Hrk, cough! Huaaagh!*

Ian twisted his mana circuits and forced his aura to flow backward.

"Ugh, ughhhh...!"

He coughed up a handful of blood, and his eyes became instantly bloodshot.

"Hnnngh...!"

His breathing was a mess, and his mana flow was completely disrupted.

No matter how supreme Ian was, at this level, it was essentially an irrecoverable wound.

Twisted mana circuits were more deadly the higher your rank.

The higher your rank, the more immense aura within your body, so when that flow is blocked abruptly, the backlash is devastating.

It wasn't unusual for arms, legs, or even the torso to swell up and burst like a bomb.

'Ughhh...!'

Ian barely endured with sheer willpower, feeling almost as if he would lose his mind from the pain.

With the massive aura flow blocked, it felt like parts of his body could explode at any moment.

'... This should be enough!'

He couldn't show any more vulnerability than this.

If this method didn't work, it was time to think up something else.

Anymore, and Ian genuinely might die.

'If you're coming, hurry up and come... If you're going to ignore me, then do it quickly!'

Even as excruciating pain racked his body, Ian spread out his senses to locate the Sword Fiend.

'...!'

He felt it.

'He's coming!'

The Sword Fiend was rapidly approaching Ian.

*Ssshhh...!*

Soon, about 300 meters directly ahead.

Ian sensed the Sword Fiend's presence.

He lifted his head slightly from where he knelt on the ground and saw the Sword Fiend faintly standing amidst the fog.

[You look like you're in pain.]

The Sword Fiend sent an aura message to Ian.

[You'll die soon.]

"..."

Ian deliberately did not answer.

So the Sword Fiend continued on his own.

[A necromancer's curse has taken root deep in your body. Your mana circuits are already twisted. If left alone, it'll only get worse. No matter how special you are, you can't heal such a curse on your own.]

"..."

[So, here's my offer. If you don't want to die, I can help you. But there must be payment.]

*Ssshhh...*

In the mist, the Sword Fiend pointed at Vladiark with his finger.

[Give me that sword. Then I'll save your life.]

"..."

*Smirk.*

Even while in agony, the corner of Ian's mouth curled up.

He found the Sword Fiend's proposal quite amusing.

"..."

The Sword Fiend frowned a little, then spoke again.

[Do you understand what I'm saying? I'd hate to think I'm talking to a fool.]

Ian answered with an aura message.

[I understand.]

[Good. And you're even polite.]

The Sword Fiend took a few steps closer.

[So, what's your answer? The sooner you accept, the easier it is to save you—]

[Sword Fiend. Silence Doomraven.]

[...!?]

When Ian suddenly called out the Sword Fiend's name, his aura wavered in surprise.

[What...! How do you know about me?]

The Sword Fiend placed a hand on the hilt hanging at his waist.

[Careful how you answer. Depending on what you say next, I might kill you with my own hands right now.]

"Huff..."

Ian, while soothing his burning wound, took a moment to relax.

[You're awfully harsh to an injured man.]

[Answer the question!]

[Calm down. I understand your suspicion, but I'm not your enemy.]

[That's for me to judge. If you say another word off-topic, I'll put another hole in your side.]

"..."

The Sword Fiend's reaction was quite rough, but understandable.

In less than a week, a monster had driven the necromancer alliance of the Valley of Souls to near-destruction—and now that monster knew his name.

Of course, he would be maximally on guard.

"..."

Ian thought for a moment, then spoke carefully.

[The reason I came here in the first place was to meet you.]

*Grip.*

The Sword Fiend gripped his sword's hilt even more tightly.

[You came to meet me? Why?]

[Because I want to make a deal with you.]

[A deal...?]

The Sword Fiend fell silent for a moment.

[Reveal your identity first.]

"..."

Ian saw no reason to hide his identity from the Sword Fiend, so he slowly pushed back his deep hood.

[Ian Greysel. Of House Hisperion. Knight to Lady Yuria, the youngest daughter of the Heavenly Sword Lord.]

In the mist, the Sword Fiend tilted his head slightly.

[A knight of Hisperion...? Ian Greysel?]

He paused, pondering.

Ian Greysel—that name he must have heard somewhere.

Now, Ian was as famous as Yuria, and before becoming her knight, had even been a fellow retainer of Hisperion like the Sword Fiend himself.

[Don't tell me... Are you the kid the Heavenly Sword Lord took in as a retainer a few years ago?]

[That's right. I'm glad you remember.]

[You're that brat?]

The Sword Fiend narrowed his eyes and stared at Ian.

Ian might not know it, but the Sword Fiend had seen him several times.

At the Hisperion proxy ceremonies—Ian's Sword Spirit ritual with Vladiark.

In the guest quarters at the Heavenly Sword Palace—he'd seen Ian walking past a window while resting in his own annex.

So, of course he knew who Ian was.

He was the eldest son of House Greysel, a retainer favored by the Sword Lord, an unprecedented genius who even overpowered the talent of Yuria.

It wasn't as if the Sword Fiend had any special interest in Ian, but every time he passed through Hisperion, he'd be forced to overhear rumors like "This time, young master Ian saved young lord Kargon during the deserted island incident," or "In the recent joint mock battle with the Holy Kingdom, young master Ian defeated the youngest Saintess with a landslide victory," and so on. He knew whether he wanted to or not.

But...

[... I can hardly believe it.]

Ian was just a small boy in the Sword Fiend's memory.

But the man before him now had broad shoulders and must have stood well over 190cm.

Could that small, scrawny boy have grown this large in just a few years?

Even accounting for how quickly children could grow—this was more on the level of a species change.

Besides...

His physique was a minor issue.

The real problem was the strength he possessed.

If this man was truly Ian Greysel, he would be barely in his twenties now.

Could someone so young possibly have the physical strength to massacre the necromancers of the Valley of Souls alone?

"... Hmm."

He needed evidence.

Evidence to decide whether this guy's claim was true or false.

Looking closely at the man's face, he did notice shades of the boy he remembered, but it wasn't enough.

He needed more definite proof.

So the Sword Fiend decided to probe further with other questions.

[Then, what have you been doing this past week? Why have you been slaughtering the necromancers?]

The Sword Fiend's hand still hadn't left his sword hilt.

-------------= Clacky's Corner -------------=

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