The Reincarnated Assassin is a Genius Swordsman - Chapter 684

‘It’s not just the Heavenly Drive.’

Raon swallowed dryly as he observed the other swords passing by the Heavenly Drive.

‘There are swords from other transcendents as well.’

The swords of transcendents like Aris Zieghart and the Sword Saint Rektor freely roamed through the air.

‘And that one….’

Could it be Wrath’s *Snow Flower*?

Something transparent, cutting through the frozen sky, appeared. It seemed like Wrath’s art of wielding an intangible sword that ripped through space.

‘Now I understand.’

The swords floating in the sky right now were the sword techniques of the transcendents I had witnessed.

My power and the achievement of the Rings of Fire had risen, and thanks to the awakening effects of the *Sacred Flame* and *Divine Elixir*, these sword techniques, whose existence I hadn’t been aware of, surfaced in my mental world.

Raon smiled faintly as he looked at the slowly revolving Rings of Fire.

‘If Wrath saw this, he’d throw a fit.’

The thought of Wrath holding his head in frustration, complaining that this was too overpowered, made Raon laugh naturally.

‘Let’s take a closer look.’

It was impossible to completely make these transcendents’ sword techniques his own right now. But he could at least observe the sword trajectories. He decided to resonate the Rings of Fire as much as possible.

‘The Heavenly Drive is drawing…’

The sky.

Glenn’s *Heavenly Drive* was drawing a sky darker than night. It was the *Sky-Chasm Sword* he had shown Raon the first time.

‘He said it was dark.’

Glenn had mentioned that his *Sky-Chasm Sword* was dark and advised Raon to create his own unique *Sky-Chasm Sword*.

Raon smiled lightly and turned his gaze to another intricately moving sword. It was Aris Zieghart’s *Spirit Sword*.

‘Lady Aris’ sword is as free as ever.’

Aris’ *Spirit Sword* traced a free trajectory, just like its owner, who had left the family. It was as if she was drawing her own constellation.

‘And that sword…’

That’s Lord Lector’s *Death Sword*.

The Sword Saint Rektor’s *Death Sword* was straight, even though it held countless sword techniques within it. It didn’t lose its straightforwardness.

Raon could feel the breath of a master craftsman who had walked one path his entire life.

‘It’s hard to believe someone like that betrayed.’

No, there’s definitely something more.

Rektor had two chances to kill Raon but stepped back both times. There was clearly some relationship between him and Sylvia that Raon didn’t know about.

As Raon let out a frustrated sigh, a faint sword surged past the *Death Sword*.

‘That’s…’

The *Flourishing Sword*?

Derus Robert’s *Flourishing Sword* was also swirling within Raon’s mental world.

‘Well, I did witness that sword.’

In his previous life, Raon had already been training in the Rings of Fire, so Derus’ swordsmanship must have left an imprint on his mental world.

However, it wasn’t as clear as the others. It was as if the sword was shrouded in mist, likely because Raon hadn’t seen it much, and his level in the Rings of Fire had been lower at the time.

‘Still, it’s worth noting.’

Even a faint sword path is far better than not seeing it at all.

Just observing it now could be a great help in eventually taking down Derus.

‘Lastly…’

Raon licked his lips and looked at the intangible sword slicing through blue frost.

‘I’ve only seen that once, yet it’s so vivid.’

Perhaps because he had directly felt Wrath’s movements, the intangible sword created by Wrath was as clear as the *Heavenly Drive*.

Furthermore, the sword technique resembled Raon’s own, making it familiar and easy to observe.

‘He’s so generous, he even helps me while sleeping.’

Raon chuckled, thinking about how Wrath would throw a fit if he heard that.

‘This is quite the lucky encounter.’

I came into my mental world to create a new sword realm, but it seems I’ll be leaving with much more.

‘Three months of time.’

Raon raised his *Heavenly Drive* and followed the trajectory of the *Heavenly Drive* with a smile curling at the corners of his lips.

‘I’ll use this time more efficiently than anyone.’

—

*Schrrrrng.*

Gravel scraped against the dragon-engraved blade of the red axe, *Red Dragon Axe*, emitting a chilling sound.

Roman Laycal, the owner of the red axe and known as the Axe King, was still seated by the riverbank, sharpening his axe.

But there was one notable difference.

There were no more stones around him.

All the countless pebbles that had once lined the riverbank had turned into fine sand.

*Schriiik.*

Roman carefully picked up the last remaining pebble and continued sharpening the axe blade. It was as if not only the blade but also his body and soul were being honed, exuding an eerie aura.

When the sun had set and risen again, the pebble in Roman’s hand crumbled into fine sand.

“It’s finally done.”

Roman nodded as he stared at the gleaming, crimson edge of the *Red Dragon Axe*.

The word “finished” seemed more directed at himself than at the axe.

“Stop hiding like a rat. Come out.”

He slung the *Red Dragon Axe* over his shoulder and gestured behind him with his chin.

*Shhh.*

A red-haired young man stepped out from behind the bushes as if a path had been opened for him. It was Beorn.

“You’ve ground down every last pebble.”

Beorn let out a sigh as he looked at the riverbank, now devoid of a single stone.

“I never knew sharpening an axe could make someone so much stronger.”

“That’s not something you should say.”

Roman narrowed his eyes as he looked at Beorn.

‘What on earth is this guy doing to grow stronger every time I see him?’

Even though Beorn had already reached the level of Grandmaster, each time Roman encountered him, Beorn had grown even stronger.

It was an incomprehensible rate of growth. If Roman hadn’t met Raon Zieghart, he might have thought that Beorn was the continent’s only true genius.

‘I still don’t like him.’

Though Beorn’s red eyes were similar to Raon’s, there was something fundamentally different about them.

While Raon’s eyes burned with passion, looking into Beorn’s eyes always made Roman feel uneasy.

“What brings you here?”

Roman scowled openly.

“I wanted to inform you of some interesting news.”

“Interesting news?”

“Yes. It’s about the opponent in your duel to the death.”

Beorn nodded slightly.

“You mean Raon?”

“Yes, it seems that in the Supere Kingdom—”

“Enough.”

Roman waved dismissively, as if he didn’t care.

“I can guess. He probably saved the Supere Kingdom from danger.”

“How did you know…?”

“The Raon Zieghart I know isn’t one to cause problems—he’s the kind who solves them. And…”

Roman curled his lips upward as Raon’s image flashed in his mind.

“He’d have to be capable of at least that much if he’s my opponent. Letting him live was the best decision I’ve ever made.”

“Are you sure about that?”

Beorn narrowed his eyes, clearly displeased.

“Raon Zieghart’s growth defies logic. By the time of the duel, he might be on equal footing with you.”

Beorn clicked his tongue, saying they had given Raon too much time.

“You’re small-minded.”

Roman furrowed his brow as he looked down at Beorn.

“The stronger my opponent, the stronger I become. A life-or-death battle always pushes this dullard to new heights.”

Roman smiled, baring his teeth as he referred to himself as a dullard.

“Yes, I do hope you win. If you lose, the vice leader won’t stay quiet.”

Beorn raised his cold gaze, as if issuing a threat.

“Shut up and get lost. If he does something like that, I’ll cut his head off, even if I have to rise from the dead.”

Roman exuded a chilling killing intent, as if he would decapitate Beorn on the spot.

“And don’t come to see me again. If I meet you one more time, I’ll take it as a death wish.”

“You don’t seem to like me.”

Beorn smiled faintly.

“The duel with Rektor was a fair fight.”

“You didn’t just defeat Rektor—you crushed his mind on purpose. Did you really need to do that to someone who was once your superior?”

“The Southern Alliance operates under the law of the strong. The strong can decide whatever they please, can’t they?”

He shrugged nonchalantly.

“As one of those strong individuals, I’m telling you. Get out of my sight if you want to live.”

Roman’s hand hovered over the handle of his axe, barely restraining himself.

“…Understood.”

Beorn nodded calmly before disappearing into the woods.

Roman clicked his tongue and turned away. He stared at the river where Rektor had been buried and bit his lip.

“That idiot….”

—

The training grounds of the Sran Tribe.

“Isn’t it impressive?”

Ogram, the Beast King and leader of the Beast Alliance, let out a hearty laugh as he grasped an entire jar of liquor.

“He overwhelmed a mid-level demon by himself! It was worth teaching him the *Fierce Sea Art*!”

He downed the entire jar of liquor in one gulp, clearly satisfied with Raon’s achievements.

“Of course! It’s only natural to crush demons!”

Garona nodded proudly, as if Raon’s accomplishments reflected on him as well.

“He’s my brother, after all!”

“And why is it that you, his brother, aren’t improving?”

Ogram set the jar down with a frown.

“You’re still only working on the basics of the *Fierce Sea Art*… What a disappointment.”

“Ugh!”

Garona shrank back, his massive shoulders hunching.

“It’s just… it’s really hard. I feel like I understand it in my head, but my body doesn’t follow….”

“Pathetic.”

Ogram called him pathetic but then smiled softly, as if he found Garona endearing.

“Take your time. Everyone has their own path. Just because you’re falling behind now doesn’t mean you won’t surpass everyone later.”

“Does that mean I’ll surpass my brother?”

“You know that’s bullshit, right?”

“Yes….”

Garona hung his head in defeat.

“Raon. That kid is unlike anyone else. Even if I were his age, I wouldn’t be able to catch up to him.”

Ogram chuckled, saying that there was no one in the current generation of the Six Kings who could match Raon.

“I suppose I’ll have to go.”

“Huh? Go where…?”

“To Raon’s duel to the death. There’s about a month left. I’m usually not interested in these fights, but I feel like I’d regret missing the one between Raon and the Axe King.”

“I want to go too!”

Garona raised his hand enthusiastically.

“If you can continuously perform the *Fierce Sea Art*, I’ll consider it.”

“I’ll do it for my brother!”

He clenched his fists, vowing to make it to Raon’s duel no matter what.

“We’ll see.”

Ogram chuckled as he reached for another jar of liquor.

“Chief!”

The chief of the Sran Tribe ran up, his face pale.

“What’s the rush? Take it slow—”

“The White Blood Religion has attacked the Chiran Tribe!”

“What?”

The jar Ogram had been holding shattered into dust in his grip.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“We just received an urgent report! The White Blood Religion’s leader himself has appeared and is committing a massacre!”

The chief of the Sran Tribe replied with trembling lips.

“Damn it….”

Ogram stood up, his aura swirling around him like white steam from the liquor.

“Wait!”

The Sran chief blocked Ogram’s path as he was about to rush off.

“You can’t go alone! Please wait for the elite forces of the Alliance!”

He shook his head, saying that it would be too dangerous to face the Blood Religion leader alone.

“If I wait, it’ll be too late!”

Ogram gritted his teeth.

“Have you forgotten what happened when she attacked the Kingdom of Carl? Even if I run there now, I can’t guarantee anyone will still be alive!”

The King of Carl had been Ogram’s childhood friend. Even though Ogram had rushed to help the kingdom after hearing of the attack, all he had found was the shriveled corpse of his old friend.

“This is our chance!”

Since Ogram had been staying quietly in the Sran Tribe for a while, the Blood Religion leader probably didn’t know he was there.

He had to move quickly and cut off that vampire’s head.

“At least take our warriors and shamans with you!”

“I’ll go too!”

The Sran chief and Garona bowed their heads, begging to join him.

“…I won’t wait.”

“We’ll catch up even if we’re late!”

Ogram nodded and kicked off the ground.

A massive crack opened in the earth as his body shot forward like a brown lightning bolt.

—

*Rumble!*

Ogram gritted his teeth as he spotted the Chiran Tribe’s village in the distance.

Flames were raging over the village nestled in the jungle. The screams of the tribe members filled the air as Ogram’s heart pounded in his chest.

“Damn it….”

The Chiran Tribe was one of the largest in the Beast Alliance, yet there were barely any signs of life left inside the village.

It seemed the vampires had already begun their bloody festival.

“Hoo….”

Ogram took a deep breath and looked behind him. Neither Garona nor the warriors of the Sran Tribe were in sight.

He left a signal for them to be cautious and stepped into the village.

*Squish.*

His foot sank as if into mud. The ground was soaked red with blood and corpses.

“Grrr….”

Ogram bit down on his tongue to maintain his composure.

“Why is there still someone alive?”

A twisted grin spread across the face of a vampire who had spotted him.

“I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt….”

*Boom!*

The vampire who had been charging at Ogram exploded into a spray of thin blood.

“What?”

“What the hell is that…?”

“Could it be…?”

The White Blood Religion followers who had been drinking the blood of the Chiran Tribe members widened their eyes as they turned to face Ogram.

“You mosquito wench! Show yourself!”

Ogram roared toward the White Blood Religion’s leader.

*Thoom!*

An enormous wave of aura erupted, smothering the flames that had consumed the village and causing the surrounding vampires to collapse, spurting blood from their mouths.

“If you don’t show yourself, I’ll wipe out all of you—”

“You’re so impatient.”

A dreamy voice, as if sucking away one’s soul, rang out as a black-haired, black-eyed woman stepped forward. The red blood under her feet seemed to be purified, turning white wherever she stepped.

*Boom!*

Ogram stomped down hard, sending out a shockwave. His fist hurtled toward the White Blood Religion leader’s head with the force of an earthquake.