Chapter 751
Simon pulled out Manus' skull from the subspace.
"──────!!"
The skull of the former Swordmaster, the moment it appeared, erupted with fierce killing intent and wrath. Simon quickly modified the formulas and circuits of the dragon’s magic circle.
[Pulled out another strange thing, I see.]
Bleto did not simply watch. He absorbed the spirit of darkness into his body, transforming his arm into something like that of a black monstrous claw, then stretched that enormous hand toward Simon.
“Herseba! Hold him for just ten minutes!”
[Got it, kid!]
Ku-gu-gu-gu-gu-gu!
As if it had been waiting, Herseba invoked authority. From all around Bleto, sand spears pierced upward from the ground, forming in an instant the shape of a prison that locked him inside.
Bleto tried to shatter the prison, but from the surrounding structures, bandages shot into the bars, wrapping around Bleto’s oversized body. His neck, arms, thighs, and legs were all bound in one strike.
[And now, let us bring in some cellmates!]
Clang! Clang!
Within the prison, structures formed one after another, and then large and small mummies burst out drooling. Among them were even gigantic mummies with bizarrely styled hats, similar to Bleto.
Kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa-kwa!
From the ground, a sand crocodile bound in bandages leapt up and bit Bleto’s leg, while fox-shaped mummies with arms crossed rose from upright coffins, their red eyes flashing upward.
Clang!
Above the prison, a massive bandage-wrapped mummy in the shape of an eagle descended and let out a roar.
[Do not interfere!]
As Bleto battled the mummies in a bloody struggle inside the sand prison, Simon calmly prepared his technique.
First, he adjusted the specifications of the dragon’s magic circle. The Dragonian Suit clicked and reconfigured its body, leaving an empty space at its chest.
Into that hollow space of the suit, Simon placed Manus' skull, activating the dragon’s magic as he connected to Manus' consciousness.
"!!"
At that moment, Manus' hatred and fury filled his head. Simon’s eyes turned bloodshot as his body twisted violently. It felt as if his mind was turning blank white.
Click!
Dr-dr-dr-drk!
From the helm of the Drake, now under Manus' control, came the sound of harsh grinding. The suit went rampant, trying to take control of Simon’s body in reverse.
“Manus! Enough!”
After the Ballack incident, Manus had become even more consumed by bloodlust. As Aron had advised, in most cases it was practically impossible to use Manus directly anymore.
Simon’s will to restrain, and Manus' will to slaughter his enemy, collided head-on.
[It seems, a technique beyond your capacity.]
Bleto’s voice resounded.
Though engulfed in the spirit of darkness, his mind remained intact, untouched by the tide of negative emotions.
He set fire to the prison, burning away the mummies, and with elongated arms broke apart the bars of sand.
‘I have to do something.’
Simon realized instinctively.
The rampaging consciousness of Manus was beyond his ability to control.
Therefore.
‘I’ll synchronize.’
Bleto was an opponent who could not be defeated unless one was ready to risk life itself.
Simon aligned with Manus.
Aligned with his killing intent.
The clashing wills gradually found a compromise, merging into one, and slowly the Dragonian’s rampage calmed.
Simon exhaled deeply, letting both arms hang loose. Then he opened the subspace and dropped a plain sword to the ground.
‘The moment I grip a sword, there’ll be no turning back.’
But the die had already been cast.
Bleto was about to break free of Herseba’s sand prison. Simon picked up the sword from the ground.
‘Ah.’
Was it because he had synchronized too deeply with Manus' consciousness? Just holding the scabbard brought him a sense of psychological stability.
Simon slipped the scabbard into the belt at his waist, and drew the sword.
Srrrng—!
A pure-white blade gleamed in the sunlight as it was drawn. The moment the sword was fully raised upright, Manus too seemed satisfied, his rampage ending, and prepared with solemn focus for battle.
‘Let’s go.’
Kwa-kwa-kwa-kwang!
Bleto smashed through the sand bars and charged at Simon like a beast. Simon merely swung the sword he held horizontally.
Tzeng.
A sound rang out.
Like the clear ringing of a bell.
But from the hand holding the sword, up the arm, across the shoulder, chills spread over his entire body.
Gooooohhhh!
Bleto’s head was flying high into the sky. The headless dark spirit-beast staggered and collapsed noisily to the ground.
[Kid! Watch out!]
Herseba’s cry rang out. From the body of Bleto, headless and fallen, small spirit faces emerged, firing black projectiles in succession.
Now it was Simon’s turn.
<Dragonian – Defense Mode>
A honeycomb-pattern of violet scales spread like a painting, blocking every attack. Maintaining the barrier, Simon and Manus gripped the sword and advanced on Bleto.
Grrrk!
The headless Bleto stood up again. From the severed neck sprouted a new head, this time the muzzle of a dog protruding forward.
Chuk.
Simon shifted his grip on the sword.
At once, countless sword techniques, their functions, powers, and uses, flashed into his mind.
As if entering a vast library, and pulling any book from the shelves, he could wield those techniques freely.
Chuk.
He shifted his grip again, reversing it.
The library flipped upside down, and the list of sword techniques changed. Simon’s lips curled into a smile. This was an unbelievable experience.
[Intriguing. A necromancer re-creating a Swordmaster.]
Bleto, with a dog’s head, sneered.
[So, in this era dominated by priests and necromancers, a battle between an old Swordmaster and a Spirit Master unfolds.]
“It isn’t the old era.”
Though rooted in an ancient age, both swordsmanship and spirit arts had been newly transformed through necromancer’s black magic.
A duel of Swordmaster and Spirit Summoner.
But, in truth, it was the battle of two necromancers.
“Herseba.”
[Okay! For a fight like this, there needs to be a stage worthy of it, right?]
Ku-gu-gu-gu-gu-gu-gu!
The ground underfoot shifted from sinking sand to flat land, walls rose up, and a massive spectator stand formed around them.
Before they knew it, the two had entered a colossal coliseum.
Fwoooosh!
Bleto raised both arms. From his body, six spirits of darkness dripped off like drops, blazing as they flew.
Simon merely swung his sword.
Tzzzeong!
The bodies of the spirits, which should not be cut by any metal lacking resonance, split cleanly in half.
As Simon walked forward, he swung the sword casually, each swing splitting the charging spirits, exposing their inner ‘cores’ as they fell apart.
[To cut spirits down to their very existence itself!]
Bleto, even as he continued to send spirits flying, let out an exclamation.
[At times one wonders, how can the mere act of swinging iron be considered a sage’s virtue, and yet, when it reaches the extreme, it can no longer be ignored.]
“Well.”
Simon, who had cut down all the incoming spirits, grinned and spun the sword with just the strength of his wrist.
“It won’t do you any good to provoke this guy too much.”
Then he suddenly swung his arm upward.
<Imperial Swordsmanship – Rain of Blossoms>
The moment Simon’s arm rose, Bleto’s extended right arm was also cut off.
But Bleto, coldly seizing his severed right arm, reshaped it into a sword and brought it down on Simon.
Simon too altered the sword’s path and swung.
Kwaang!
The clash of the two blades shook the colosseum.
Kwaaang! Tzeng! Jjeoong!
Though the size difference was overwhelming, Simon did not yield at all. Soon he found an opening, and struck, cutting off Bleto’s left arm as well.
“Now!”
[I’ve been waiting for the signal!]
The colosseum had not been built just for show. The moment Bleto lost both arms, the colosseum shrank in an instant, its sand wrapping around Bleto’s body.
[You bastard!]
Bleto’s body sank deeper into the sand, forming into a massive, golden rhombus-shaped prison. Chains shot out, suspending the golden prison in midair.
Bwoong!
Then Simon, rising into the air, grasped the sword with both hands and raised it above his head.
The strongest sword technique Manus prided himself on.
<Imperial Swordsmanship – Rising Heavens>
With a diagonal slash, Simon descended to the ground. Through the cracks in the golden prison, light blazed, and slowly, Simon slid the sword back into its scabbard.
Click!
The moment the blade entered the scabbard, the golden prison exploded.
Inside, Bleto was revealed, coughing blood with a long wound carved across his chest.
Krrrrrr!
The golden prison dissolved back into sand, the barren desert wasteland around them vanished as well.
The enormous eye of Herseba in the sky closed.
And the world, before they knew it, had returned to its original state.
“....…”
What remained, was Bleto, lying on the ground with a gaping sword wound in his chest, and Simon, his back turned, standing with the sword in its scabbard.
“You did it, didn’t you!”
As Simon returned, Lete came running to greet him.
Simon smiled and waved, then suddenly groaned, curling his body.
Brrrrrr—!
The battle was over, yet Manus tried to rampage again.
Simon quickly deactivated the dragon’s magic, pulled Manus' skull out of the Dragonian Suit, and shoved it back into subspace. In that brief moment, Manus resisted, biting Simon’s hand.
‘Be still.’
In truth, they were lucky it had ended here.
Simon turned his head toward Bleto.
“If he heals immediately, he might survive. We need him to cough up information about the Executioners.”
Bleto chuckled.
“It’s already too late.”
“What?”
He lifted his arm. As he slipped off his sagging gauntlet, his body was turning to dust, scattering away.
“......This is!”
“The risk of time travel.”
Already Bleto’s face was fading.
“I am not meant to exist in this era, so I disappear. You are aided by Neftis, but I, with all sorts of spirit magic, was only delaying the inevitable.”
His body vanished rapidly. Bleto closed his eyes.
“Still, it is fortunate, that the last thing I see is you, Simon Follentia.”
Simon’s eyes widened.
“What? Wait, what do you mean by that!”
Saaaaaaaahhh!
Ignoring Simon’s question, he lifted his fading arm toward the sky.
“For the Executioners.”
And in an instant, his body scattered cleanly into nothingness.
Simon bit his lip hard.
“Are you all right?”
Lete approached and asked. Simon turned back.
“What about the other Executioners operatives?”
“Of course, smashed them all. Tried to keep them alive, but they all bit the poison hidden in their mouths and offed themselves.”
Lete sighed deeply and crouched.
“Well, let’s at least check their belongings. Might be something useful.”
Simon nodded, then searched the pockets of Bleto, whose body had vanished leaving only clothing behind. As expected of a Spirit Summoner, his bag, imbued with spatial magic, contained many items.
“Immigration documents, a wallet, a fake ID. Other than personal belongings, not much left.”
“This is…….”
Simon pulled out a small notebook from the clothes.
“What is it?”
Chwa-rrrk—
As Simon flipped through the notebook, his expression grew sharp.
“A research manual, on Dark Spirit Magic……?”
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