The Reincarnated Assassin is a Genius Swordsman - Chapter 723

“You’ve returned.”

Derus Robert rolled up his cloak and bowed courteously toward the swordsman wearing the blue dragon helmet.

“Derus.”

The man in the blue dragon helmet addressed him as Derus, recognizing him by his appearance and voice.

“Beorn and Kubara returned, but you didn’t come back, so I was getting concerned. Are you all right?”

The fake Derus approached the real Derus, his eyebrows furrowing deeply.

“My body is fine, but something else is broken,”

The real Derus Robert clutched his chest, coughing up black blood.

“If it hadn’t been for the bracelet that compresses the aura of death, I might’ve been buried beneath that river.”

Murmuring about how close it had been, he spat out another mouthful of blood.

“What kind of technique did you fall victim to…?”

The fake Derus trembled in disbelief.

“It was a swordsmanship style I had never seen before. It cut through not just the body but the soul itself.”

Derus shook his head, his tone filled with incredulity.

“Was it similar to Ogram’s Flawless Sea of Flames?”

“No, it was on a completely different level. With the Flawless Sea of Flames, a soul of high enough caliber could withstand it to some extent, but Glenn’s sword was different.”

His slender fingers traced the air as if mimicking Glenn’s *Mental World*.

“It cut through my soul as if it didn’t care about my condition. It was beyond swordsmanship—a transcendent power. But there was something even more infuriating than Glenn’s sword.”

Derus rubbed his blood-soaked chest, twisting his lips in annoyance.

“Raon Zieghart. That damn brat interfered to the very end!”

Unable to maintain his composure, Derus let out a roar, like a beast bellowing in anger.

*Woooom!*

The fake Derus raised a barrier of energy, preventing the shout from escaping the study.

“He comes back to life every time I think he’s dead, only to ruin my plans! I should’ve torn him apart long ago!”

As rare, genuine fury boiled over, an aura of death seeped from Derus.

*Hoooosh!*

The deathly aura had evolved, now affecting even inanimate objects.

Books turned to black ash and scattered, while fine furniture decayed into dust as though thousands of years had passed.

“Haa….”

After venting his rage, Derus took a deep breath, his eerie gaze finally regaining its usual calmness.

“Bardiel.”

Derus gestured to the fake Derus, his voice dropping to a murmur.

“Report on the situation since I left.”

“Before the war, King Owen contacted us. During the war, the Tower Lord reached out, and afterward, Chamber sent a message via communication magic. None showed any signs of suspicion before ending the calls.”

Bardiel, as the man was called, lowered his head, signaling that there was no need to worry.

“Just as expected.”

Derus curled his lips and folded his fingers.

‘Even if they’re suspicious, they can’t act on it.’

The magical projection created by Chamber and the Tower Lord not only shows one’s appearance but also reflects their nature, making it impossible to use a substitute.

However, the disguise Bardiel was wearing was an ancient artifact crafted from the deaths of hundreds of doppelgangers: the *Skin of the Doppelganger.*

It didn’t just alter one’s appearance; it changed their nature and aura as well. Unless someone came in person, it was impossible to detect.

‘Raon won’t be able to reveal my identity so easily.’

Even if Raon Zieghart was truly that Raon, he hadn’t seen this helmet.

Without any evidence, attempting to expose Derus’s identity would be no different from a death wish.

‘Well, there is one piece of evidence.’

He glanced at the scar crossing in an X on the back of his hand.

‘If he shows this scar, he can expose me as Derus Robert.’

But that, too, was impossible.

As long as Bardiel wore the *Skin of the Doppelganger*, the scar could not be revealed, no matter what was done to it.

If Raon tried to use the scar as proof, Derus could turn the tables, making it an opportunity instead.

“Since you’ve returned, I’ll remove the skin.”

“No.”

As Bardiel raised his hand to the back of his head, Derus shook his head.

“As I said, I may have healed physically, but my soul is still torn.”

Derus shook his head calmly.

“While I recover, you will take my place.”

“…Understood.”

Bardiel nodded carefully. When he lifted his gaze again, it was as if he had truly become Derus, with an exact replica of his expression.

“The Six Kings meeting will convene soon. If it’s through projection, you’ll attend in my stead, and if I must go in person, you’ll call me.”

Derus scrutinized Bardiel, narrowing his eyes.

“Even as a Transcendent wearing that skin, you won’t be able to fool those old men completely.”

“Understood.”

Bardiel bowed, accepting the orders without question.

“Then I’ll be going.”

“Yes.”

He bowed slightly before leaving the study.

“Haa….”

Once he was alone, Derus removed the blue dragon helmet.

“Wounds bring new flesh and new experiences.”

With a cold smile, he pushed his blood- and sweat-drenched silver hair back.

“I’ll make you regret sparing me. And I’ll make sure you regret being alive.”

* * *

“So, this is the letter Raon left?”

Merlin, wearing a mask crudely crafted from tree bark, carefully held the folded paper in her hands.

“Yes, Raon left it.”

Garam nodded as he looked at the letter.

“Haa….”

Merlin stroked the letter’s edge, her breath quickening.

“This is the first time I’ve received a love letter. It’s making me nervous.”

She smacked her lips, looking strangely anxious.

“Love…?”

Garam tilted his head, baffled.

“Let’s see.”

Ignoring Garam’s reaction, Merlin unfolded Raon’s letter.

> “I heard you saved me again this time. Thank you. And I’m sorry. Because of me, you got ambushed by the Soul-Eating Specter and were chased out of Eden. All I can say is sorry. But as the saying goes, ‘Fortune turns calamity into blessings,’ I hope this moment helps you put your past behind and start anew. From now on, live a life where you cherish yourself, free from wrongdoing. I’ll be cheering you on, and if you ever need help, just come to me anytime. —Raon Zieghart.”

The letter was brief, but Raon had carefully written what he wanted to convey.

“Aaah….”

Merlin clutched the letter to her chest, trembling as tears welled up in her eyes.

“Are… are you hurt somewhere?”

Startled, Garam rushed to her.

“Is it from an injury…?”

“This means he loves me, right? Raon loves me!”

Merlin’s violet eyes twisted in a disturbing direction.

“Huh…?”

Garam backed away, unsettled by her strange, seductive gaze.

“No, that can’t be right?”

Since Raon had shared the contents of the letter with him, Garam knew it contained nothing about love.

“No, it’s true. Cheering for someone and waiting for them is a way of saying you love them.”

Merlin murmured with conviction, nodding resolutely.

“I love you too! I love you too! I love you too! I love you too! I love you too! I love you too! I love you too! I love you too! I love you too! I love you too! I love you too! I love you too! I love you too!”

She rubbed her face against the letter as if it were Raon himself, endlessly professing her love.

“I’m coming right away! I’ll be there soon! Right away! I’ll be there soon! Right away! I’ll be there soon! Right away! I’ll be there soon! Right away! I’ll be there soon! Right away!”

With her eerie obsession, even the river seemed to take on the same violet hue as her eyes.

“Ugh….”

Garam raised his hand, conjuring a water spell.

‘She really shouldn’t be allowed outside….’

Should he seal her again?

* * *

A small tavern on the outskirts of Camelon, known as a trading or commercial city.

As always, despite it being broad daylight, the tavern was so packed that there wasn’t a single empty seat.

But there was one difference from usual.

Since people from all over the continent had gathered, they would normally talk about whatever rumors interested them, but today, everyone in the tavern was discussing only the war between Zieghart and the North-South Union.

“I never thought the North-South Union would truly collapse.”

A balding middle-aged man set down his beer mug, letting out a hollow sigh.

“I thought, as always, things would just end moderately….”

He shook his foamy lips, still in disbelief.

“It wasn’t just the North-South Union. The White Blood Cult, Holy Sword Alliance, Eden, and even the newly affiliated Shadows—all the Oma were hit.”

A mustached middle-aged man frowned.

“They say the Northern Annihilation King held off five Transcendents on his own. And if you add the Dragon Lord, that’s six.”

“Leave out the North-South Union leader.”

The balding man shook his head.

“Dranos was beheaded by Raon Zieghart.”

“That’s actually the part I find hardest to believe.”

The mustached man pounded the table heavily.

“Defeats the Axe King, survives a sneak attack after passing out, saves the Northern Annihilation King, and kills the leader and vice-leader of the North-South Union? This isn’t some ancient legend—how does any of that make sense?!”

He slammed his mug down again, finding it all too incredible to believe.

“I can’t believe it either, but people who saw it swear it’s true. I mean, the Zieghart family—they’re not ordinary humans, are they? How can a grandfather and grandson both be like that?”

The balding man shook his head, baffled.

“Raon Zieghart is 22 now, right? He might just be the greatest genius in the history of the continent.”

“Definitely. At his age, even the heads of the Six Kings and Five Demons were only Masters.”

The mustached man nodded in agreement.

“Oh, and I heard Raon Zieghart got a new title.”

“I heard that too. It came up from the south….”

The bald man lifted his mug, then paused, his eyes rolling in thought.

“Was it the Usurper? Sounds cool, though I don’t quite get it.”

“If you look at Raon Zieghart’s deeds, it’s easy to figure out.”

The mustached man traced a crown shape with his finger.

“His deeds?”

“Yes. Before this war, Raon Zieghart executed the king of the Holy Kingdom, who’d fallen under demonic influence, and passed the throne to the third prince. In this war, he killed the Axe King Roman, the North-South Union leader Dranos, and the vice-leader Helgrum, and he returned the river to the Blue Stream Tribe.”

He swallowed and pressed down on the imaginary crown he’d drawn, as if crushing it.

“A ‘usurper’ is someone who deposes kings. Raon Zieghart beheaded a corrupted king and dethroned the king of the river. The title fits him perfectly.”

The mustached man shuddered as if he felt chills from his own explanation.

“True, it’s fitting.”

The balding man nodded in agreement, letting out a deep breath.

“Oh, come to think of it, there’s someone else who got a new title besides Raon Zieghart.”

“Yes. And it’s perhaps even more chilling than the Usurper….”

The mustached man swallowed, lowering his gaze.

“The Demon Blade with Red Eyes.”

* * *

The grave of swords behind Zieghart’s main hall.

“…….”

Sylvia, dressed in black mourning clothes, lowered her red eyes slowly. Standing before the graves, she bowed her head respectfully, as if comforting the departed.

Following Sylvia’s lead, Raon paid a solemn salute toward the masterless swords.

‘Thank you for fighting for me. And I’m sorry I couldn’t save you.’

Those buried here had taken to the battlefield to avenge his death.

Since Derus was involved, war would have erupted one way or another, and even if he had awakened earlier and participated, he likely wouldn’t have been able to save them. Still, he wanted to express his gratitude and apologize to those who had fought for him.

‘I make you this promise.’

Raon clasped his hands together, closing his eyes.

‘I will reveal the true identity of Derus Robert and take his head.’

Up to now, he had moved solely for his own vengeance, but this experience had placed the will and breath of many people upon his shoulders.

Exposing Derus and killing him had become a task he was bound to fulfill, even at the cost of his life.

After bowing once more to the grave of swords, Raon stepped back and looked at the figure standing at the forefront.

Glenn Zieghart. Unlike other ceremonies, he led this funeral from start to finish, never taking his eyes off the swordsmen’s graves.

It was as if his back bore the weight of guilt for not being able to protect them.

“Haa….”

Raon let out a short sigh, biting his lip slightly.

‘I’ve never seen the Head like this.’

He had thought Glenn would conduct the funeral with his usual confidence, yet here he was, handling everything with the utmost care and respect.

It felt strange, as if he were seeing a new side of him.

-That’s exactly how it should be!

Wrath pointed his round finger at Glenn.

-The higher up you go, the more you should value your subordinates! That old man might have questionable taste in food, but at least he knows how to do things right!

Wrath nodded approvingly, and Raon felt an unusual kinship with him, given Wrath’s own tendency to care for his underlings.

“They say the Head has always been like this.”

Sylvia approached Raon, whispering quietly.

“He’s always been like this?”

“Yes. He only became this cold-hearted after going through war. I heard he used to have a much gentler side.”

She chuckled softly, admitting that it was something she’d only heard, not experienced herself.

“I see.”

Raon nodded slowly, though he still found it difficult to imagine a softer side to Glenn.

“That concludes the funeral.”

At Chad’s closing words, the funeral came to an end.

“There will be a small banquet tonight at the Main Hall, so please attend if you’re not busy.”

He spoke as if participation were mandatory, then descended from the podium.

“…….”

Glenn glanced in their direction for a moment before heading toward the Main Hall.

‘A banquet, huh….’

Raon clicked his tongue and turned away.

‘I don’t really need to go, do I?’

-Wh-what nonsense is that?!

Wrath blocked his path as if horrified by the suggestion.

-A banquet means tables full of delicacies! How could you even think about skipping it?!

Drooling, Wrath’s gaze became intense.

‘I thought you liked home-cooked meals.’

-Uh….

‘Besides, Mother isn’t particularly fond of the Main Hall.’

-Ugh!

‘You call her your mother—are you not going to think about her?’

-W-well….

Wrath was left speechless, his chin trembling as he looked torn between the banquet’s food and his “mother.” His eyes darted back and forth as if caught in a pendulum.

“Mother, shall we head back?”

Raon pushed past the conflicted Wrath and turned to Sylvia.

“Young Master Raon. Lady Sylvia.”

Roenn approached, carrying two elegant boxes at his waist.

“The Head has ordered that you both attend tonight’s banquet.”

“For both of us?”

“Yes. Both of you must come.”

He emphasized that they must attend and presented the two boxes.

Raon and Sylvia exchanged glances and took their respective boxes.

-What’s in there? Is it ice cream?

Wrath snapped back to attention, darting in close with his tongue hanging out.

‘Hold on.’

Pushing Wrath aside, Raon opened his box and looked inside, finding an item he hadn’t expected.

“This is….”