Chapter 842

“Huff…”

Rimmer exhaled a white breath as he deflected the spatial blade fired by Sif.

Just blocking the blade made his arm ache as if he’d been struck by a hunk of metal, and a pain like his insides were twisting surged through him.

“You’re going to keep trying to block it?”

Sif clicked his tongue briefly as he looked down at Rimmer.

“Wouldn’t it be easier if you just dodged?”

He shrugged his shoulders as if wondering why Rimmer was standing still and taking it.

“Man, you’re seriously a damn bastard.”

Rimmer wiped the blood dripping from his mouth with his sleeve and gritted his teeth.

“Why? Even if you’re injured, someone like you could dodge easily, couldn’t you?”

Sif shook his head as if he couldn’t understand.

“Oh, don’t tell me it’s because of the baggage behind you?”

He raised a slender finger and pointed at Dorian and Aris standing behind Rimmer.

“Neither of them is any help. One’s a completely useless worm, and my mother is giving me strength just by being in this space.”

Sif raised his chin and waved his hands side to side.

“Just abandon them. It’ll be easier.”

He then pointed his black sword properly, signaling to fight seriously.

“You sure talk a lot.”

Rimmer spat the blood pooled in his mouth and sneered.

“You keep firing your spatial blades only in this direction.”

Sif didn’t attack in the direction he moved, but only sent slashes toward Aris and Dorian.

Seeing him yap while holding onto their weakness made Rimmer want to break his neck.

“Then keep trying to block it.”

Sif curled his lips long and thrust his black sword forward slowly.

Piaaaaaang!

Unlike the slowly advancing black sword, the slash he unleashed sprang out right in front of Rimmer, revealing a chilling murderous intent.

Chiiiiing!

Rimmer twisted his Leaf Blade diagonally and diverted Sif’s spatial blade to the lower left.

Kwaaaaaang!

The ground hit by Sif’s slash was gouged so deeply it was impossible to see the bottom, and the hollow shook as if it would collapse.

‘It’s not easy.’

When he blocked Sif’s full-powered spatial slash earlier, a crack had formed in the artificial arm attached to his right shoulder, making it difficult to move his hand properly.

His internal injuries had worsened as well, so his artificial dantian wasn’t functioning properly. It was the worst-case scenario.

“V-Vice Division Leader…”

Dorian trembled, his face soaked with tears.

“It’s fine. I’ve been through worse.”

Rimmer gave a faint smile and nodded slightly.

‘Yeah. I’ve been through a lot.’

Unlike the reputation of being a genius, he’d suffered many defeats.

‘When was my first loss…’

Rimmer opened his blurry eyes, watching Sif’s spatial blade shooting toward him again.

‘Right. It was that man…’

—

Back when he was no different from the other elves.

A rare human guest had visited Sephia.

“Among the humans who entered the sanctuary today, there’s a direct descendant of Zieghart. Glenn Zieghart. He’s the son of the current head.”

Erian, who rarely showed interest in other races, said even his gaze was different as he swallowed dryly.

“Different, huh…”

For even Erian to say so, it piqued Rimmer’s curiosity. He decided to go see this human for himself.

While waiting in front of his grandfather’s house, the wooden door opened, and a man with brilliant golden hair, like sunlight filtering through the forest, walked out.

Despite his young age, a fully formed warrior’s aura was felt. Just as Erian had said, he thought it was intense when Glenn’s gaze met his.

Calm, sunken red eyes. Eyes that would not waver even amidst a raging storm. Meeting those eyes, a fighting spirit he hadn’t known he had arose within him.

He became curious. Normally, he would have ignored it and focused on his own tasks, but he wanted to feel the presence emanating from that man through force.

When evening came and the forest quieted, Rimmer went to Glenn’s lodging and knocked on the door.

“What is it?”

Despite being young, Glenn spoke with the tone of an old man. Thinking about it now, it was laughable.

“I am Rimmer, Guardian of Sephia.”

At the time, as the grandson of the Guardian and the Guardian himself, he introduced himself as politely as he could.

“May I request a spar?”

“Fine.”

Glenn nodded without a moment’s hesitation.

Since childhood, Rimmer had been praised for his talent and was told he might succeed his grandfather as the Guardian, so he had some confidence.

However.

Before exchanging even a few blows, he found himself kneeling in the dirt. It was a complete defeat with no room for excuses.

“That was a good match.”

Without shedding a single drop of sweat, Glenn returned to his lodging.

It was shocking. It felt as if the world of swordsmanship he knew had been shattered.

Even lying in bed at home, eating, or standing guard outside, Glenn’s overwhelming swordsmanship flickered in his mind.

He wanted to see it again. To fight him again.

The next evening, Rimmer went back to Glenn and asked for another spar.

“Fine.”

Glenn accepted so refreshingly it was almost absurd.

But he lost again. And again the next day. And the day after that.

After clutching his head and agonizing for days, the day Glenn left Sephia, Rimmer followed him without a backward glance.

‘The look on the Head’s face was something.’

Nowadays, thanks to Raon, Glenn often showed flustered expressions, but that was the first time Rimmer had ever seen him so surprised.

Perhaps liking Rimmer’s will and initiative, Glenn immediately appointed him as captain of the assault unit.

Of course, not everyone agreed.

“Assault unit? Trusting a guy we’ve never seen before?”

Sheryl, a pretty-faced troublemaker, had grumbled ever since their first meeting.

“Just by looking, he’s all looks and no skill. No way he’ll do any real work!”

She scrunched her brow, looking much the same as she does now.

“…Noisy human.”

Those were the first words Rimmer ever said to Sheryl.

“What?”

“Don’t talk. Show it with your sword.”

Unhappy at being dismissed, he immediately challenged her.

And damn it, he lost…

“Crawl before me from now on. Forget about leading the assault unit.”

Sheryl snorted and left the training ground. Later, Rimmer realized that from that moment, Sheryl treated him not as an elf, but as an equal.

He was considerate but had a nasty temper.

“Your sparring experience is too lacking.”

Glenn gave a small smile, saying it was a problem that could be solved with time and effort.

“From now on, spar with Sheryl once a day.”

Following his instructions, Rimmer sought out Sheryl every day to spar—and lost every time.

However, just as Glenn said, as he accumulated sparring experience, he gradually closed the gap. Around six months later, he finally defeated Sheryl for the first time.

“You little…!”

Sheryl, sniffling in frustration, wiped her eyes without bothering to clear the tears and ran off the training ground.

“I’ll see you tomorrow! I won’t lose next time!”

She was cute. Rimmer hadn’t expected such a side from the human who always barked complaints at him.

“You’re now fit to lead the assault unit.”

Glenn patted his shoulder as if to commend him. More than the sense of achievement from growing stronger, Rimmer felt a warm glow in his chest.

Although he still didn’t fully understand humans, it felt like he’d gained a new family.

The very next day.

Glenn sent him the swordsmen who would serve under him.

“Nice to meet you! I’m Slan!”

A cheerful man with a friendly impression bowed his head.

“Yuser…”

A woman, skinny with dark circles under her eyes, turned her head slightly and simply stated her name.

“I’m Cureo Zieghart.”

A young man who appeared to be in his mid-twenties greeted him with excessive formality.

“My name’s Drebin. Leave anything related to money to me.”

An unusually plump middle-aged man for a swordsman smiled and extended his hand.

Unlike the similar-looking elves, every human was overflowing with individuality.

However, unlike with Glenn and Sheryl, it wasn’t easy to build relationships with them.

They spent over ten years together with a relationship that was strictly superior and subordinate—giving and receiving orders and teachings, nothing more and nothing less.

Fortunately, after Glenn became the family head, they continued working together, and their coordination improved without a single failure.

During one of their typical missions where only the assault unit was dispatched, while camping before reaching the site, Slan struck up a conversation.

“Captain, do you have any dreams?”

Slan tilted his head curiously as he looked at Rimmer.

“…I don’t know.”

At the time, Rimmer didn’t have anything he could call a dream.

Achieving transcendence wasn’t so much a dream as it was a goal, and Glenn had risen to the position of family head without significant assistance.

“Then should I share mine?”

Slan smiled and leaned toward the campfire.

“I wish there were no more unfortunate children. So, even though it’s a small amount, I donate my earnings.”

He said he donated his salary to orphanages and childcare facilities, wishing that no children would have to grow up suffering like he did.

“It’s not a small amount! You dump all your earnings!”

Drebin snorted as he looked at Slan.

“Better than hoarding it like you do.”

Slan wrinkled his brow at Drebin.

“Why save up money?”

Since Rimmer felt no particular value in money, he asked out of pure curiosity.

“Because money is power. You wouldn’t understand what it’s like to live without it.”

Drebin, who had grown up extremely poor, said it was his dream to become the continent’s richest man and waved his arms.

“I just want to gamble as much as I want!”

Cureo Zieghart licked his lips and rubbed his hands together.

“The thrill of shuffling cards can’t even be matched by battle.”

He said he was looking forward to hitting the gambling halls after returning.

“You always lose though.”

“Winning or losing doesn’t matter! It’s the excitement that counts!”

Cureo laughed, saying that gambling itself made him feel alive.

“That’s because you’re rich. Gambling’s only fun if you have money to burn.”

Drebin scrunched his brow, clearly displeased with Cureo.

“Yuser. What about you?”

Slan looked over at Yuser, who was already beginning to doze off.

“I just want to sleep…”

Yuser barely lifted her eyelids as she shook her head.

“My dream is to be born a stone and sleep forever…”

She mumbled about dreaming even while dreaming.

“Actually… I’d like to try raising children too.”

Slan gazed into the fire with a gentle smile.

“You mean getting married and having kids?”

Cureo clicked his tongue, saying it was too ordinary.

“No, I want to become a true mentor. Not just a drill instructor, but a real teacher.”

Slan gave Rimmer a thin smile.

“Just like how you always looked after us in detail, Captain, I want to raise children to be outstanding swordsmen too.”

“I see…”

Honestly, Rimmer couldn’t understand it. Donations, greed, gambling, laziness—all were values completely unrelated to him.

Even after ten years, he felt he hadn’t closed the distance between him and his subordinates.

“Captain. Once this mission’s over, why don’t you come to the orphanage with me? Kids love handsome people, so I’m sure you’ll be welcome.”

“Forget the orphanage. Let’s hit the gambling hall! I’ll treat you to a full course!”

Slan and Cureo waved their hands, suggesting the orphanage and the gambling hall, respectively.

“Better idea—if you have money, invest it with me. I’ll double it in a year.”

Even now, Drebin was rubbing his hands together, talking about money.

“……”

Yuser snored lightly, showing no interest in anything.

“If there’s an opportunity.”

That’s what Rimmer said, but it was a time when dozens of wars broke out every day, and it was hard to find time outside of missions.

Several more years passed, and Rimmer and his subordinates went to war against the Holy Sword Alliance alongside Glenn.

On that day, which they thought would be like any other.

Slan looking at photos of the orphanage children, Yuser lazily sprawling in her sleeping bag, Cureo shuffling his cards, Drebin counting his money—everything was the same as usual.

But that day, every one of his subordinates died, and Rimmer suffered injuries so severe it was a miracle he survived, his dantian shattered.

When he finally woke up, he was back in Zieghart, and his subordinates hadn’t even left behind their bodies.

For elves, death wasn’t particularly sorrowful.

The dead would return as mana to this world, and they would meet again someday.

Because my soul had melted into the life of humans, it felt like my insides were being torn apart by a knife, and my chest ached terribly.

While I lived like a broken man for a time, holed up in my room, Sheryl kicked down the door and barged in.

“Ugh! Look at all this dust!”

Waving her hand as if it was disgusting, Sheryl glared at me.

“Hey! Get out so I can clean!”

Without saying anything else, she kicked me out, declaring she would clean the place.

I staggered out of the lodging with unsteady steps.

Wandering aimlessly, I eventually found myself in a bustling area and saw a flashy sign. It was the gambling hall Cureo often talked about.

With the single gold coin I had left in my pocket, I entered the gambling hall.

I lost it all in the first round. Cureo said shuffling cards gave him a thrill, but I felt nothing. I didn’t understand why people did this.

The next day, I went to the bank to see the money I had accumulated. A mountain of gold coins stacked at my account window. Drebin would have been delighted, but I felt no emotion.

I took a hundred gold coins and went to the orphanage Slan regularly donated to.

Some children were standing on tiptoes, peering over the wall. They seemed to be waiting, unaware of Slan’s death.

When dawn came, I left the gold coins and a letter that seemed to be from Slan, then turned away.

The children were happy, but my heart remained unmoved.

Lastly, I returned to the room Sheryl had cleaned and, like Yuser, tried sleeping for days.

No matter how much I tried, sleep wouldn’t come. I woke naturally every morning.

Donation, laziness, money, gambling—none of it touched me. I was still running parallel to those guys.

Even so, I repeated those actions daily. Checking my money, donating, gambling, and sleeping as if dead.

At some point, the money piled up and brought me joy, my heart throbbed with the thrill of shuffling cards, seeing the children’s faces during donations filled me with pride, and sleeping made me happy.

The day I turned from an elf into a human.

The day I became able to comfort my subordinates.

For the first time, tears fell from my eyes.

And I remembered the last thing Slan said.

‘He said he wanted to become a true mentor, not just a drill instructor.’

Slan had said it as if he realized it after seeing me.

For the first time in a long while, I donned my formal uniform and sought out Glenn, telling him I wanted to become an instructor.

“…You took your time.”

Glenn gave a bitter smile, as if he had been waiting a long time. It wasn’t a smile directed only at me.

“But an instructor? I can’t give Zieghart’s instructor position to someone with no qualifications. Earn it yourself by passing the exam.”

He didn’t cut me any slack just because we were old comrades. He told me to pass the exam and come back.

It was different from when he had been trapped in his inner demons and indifferent to everything. Glenn had completely escaped from his inner struggles too.

“Hmph.”

Sheryl snorted in disdain but couldn’t hide the joy in her eyes.

“Fine.”

I barely managed to pass the ridiculously difficult test Glenn gave me and earned my qualifications.

And then, like Glenn had once visited Sephia, I met a child whose red eyes sparkled especially brightly.

That was my new beginning—and my greatest happiness.

—

Kyaaaaaang!

Rimmer bit his lip as he felt the shock twisting his wrist.

“Ah…”

Had he blacked out for a moment?

The pain from his internal injuries must have been too severe; he seemed to have lost consciousness briefly.

“Where are you looking? You have to keep blocking. Otherwise…”

Sif, lifting his chin, fired a spatial blade toward Dorian behind him.

Trrrk!

Dragging his barely moving leg, Rimmer retreated and deflected the slash aiming for Dorian’s neck.

“Huff…”

Just as Rimmer exhaled to prepare for the next attack—

Puh-uck!

Sif burst through the air and thrust his black sword into Rimmer’s chest.

“Keuk!”

Rimmer vomited blood and bent over.

‘Damn…’

His reaction had been too slow. He could feel the sensation of the black sword piercing his flesh and breaking his bones. The agony tore through his soul, forcing a scream from deep within him.

“See? This is what happens when you bother taking care of worms.”

Sif threw a deep sneer at Rimmer.

“Even if you die, these guys die too.”

“That’s not it…”

Rimmer raised his left hand and grabbed the black sword embedded in his chest.

“As long as my disciple is alive before I die, that’s enough.”

“…You still have this much strength?”

Sif let out a hollow laugh as he saw the black sword unable to be pulled free from Rimmer’s grip.

“Vice Division Leader!”

Dorian cried out and charged forward, carrying Aris on his back, drawing his sword and aiming for Sif’s neck.

Tuuung!

Dorian’s strike, sharper than his level suggested, melted away like mist without piercing Sif’s aura.

“You trash!”

Displeased, Sif kicked Dorian with full force.

“Kugh!”

Dorian coughed up blood and collapsed but immediately tried to rise again to rush at Sif.

‘That guy…’

Rimmer’s lips trembled faintly as he watched Dorian, who had forgotten fear.

‘You’ve grown a lot.’

The Dorian he knew would have cowered in a corner in a situation like this. To think he would charge at a transcendent… It gave him a small but undeniable surge of strength.

“I’ll kill you first!”

Sif pulled out the black sword and tightened his grip as if to kill him at once.

“You’re not going anywhere.”

But Rimmer refused to let go, keeping his hand firmly gripping the sword embedded in his chest.

“You crazy bastard!”

Even as Sif pummeled him with his fists, Rimmer moved his creaking right arm.

Puh-uck!

As if the very spirit of Sephia was answering his final wish, a grand wind blew, seemingly pushing back the darkness.

“What the hell is this?!”

Sif recoiled in shock, trying to defend by drawing on Aris’s aura.

‘Still, I’m going.’

As if the lost freedom had returned, strength surged through his entire body.

Gripping the sword short and sharpening his fingertips, Rimmer plunged it in, wrapped in the winds of Garunua that he had built up—and the light wind technique passed down by Raon.

Kyaaaaaang!

The wall of dark blue distorted aura shattered, and a deep sword scar was carved into Sif’s chest.

“Haa…”

But now, truly out of strength, Rimmer could no longer hold his sword.

“You damn worm!”

Unable to contain himself, Sif struck his own abdomen with the black sword still lodged in Rimmer’s chest. Death felt imminent.

Even so, Rimmer did not release his grip on the black blade with his left hand.

Even if he ended here, he had to protect his disciple and that child’s family.

His knees trembled, his teeth clenched against the pain, but he endured.

However, even willpower had its limits. Eventually, the strength left his hand, and his vision began to fade to white.

There was no regret in this battle.

Failing to reach transcendence, suffering injuries while protecting others—all of it was fine.

He just exhaled a thin sigh, feeling regret only for not being able to protect Dorian, and for leaving without seeing Raon and the other children’s faces again.

“You stubborn bastard! Fine! I won’t let you die so easily!”

Though he could have killed Rimmer immediately, Sif, with a twisted sense of cruelty, poured aura into the black sword.

The sensation of his bones and flesh being torn apart paradoxically sharpened Rimmer’s fading consciousness. There was nothing more he could do.

As he exhaled a bloody breath, awaiting death, the space tore apart—and a human, cloaked in wings and drenched in blood, burst forth.

Right after him, familiar flames split the air, and Raon along with the Light Wind Division members appeared.

“As expected, it’s Raon Zieghart. But you’re a little too late.”

At Sif’s mocking words, Raon and the others turned around.

Seeing their eyes brimming with emotion upon spotting him pierced painfully into Rimmer’s chest.

There was no need for such expressions.

The reason he had stayed alive until now.

The reason he had endured with a false arm and swallowed down a false dantian—was all for them.

They were the ones who allowed him to live once more as a human.

Haaa.

He could feel the last of his time running out.

What should he say?

Should he tell them to tear that damned bastard apart in the most brutal way possible?

Should he ask them to tell Glenn to finally be honest with himself?

Should he, though he wouldn’t live to see it, ask Raon to become the greatest family head of all?

He believed that no matter what request he made, his disciples would fulfill it.

But he didn’t want to burden these already struggling children with heavy words.

Then the answer was clear.

“Always…”

Rimmer swallowed the blood rising in his throat and smiled. He didn’t want his final expression, the last memory he left them, to be a grimace.

“Be happy.”

With the brightest smile of his life, he delivered his final farewell.

To his young king.

No, to his greatest disciples.

(T/N: Holy fucking shit. Rimmerrrrrrrr!!!!! RIP Rimmer. I knew he was gonna die but reading it up until his last moments, is too much. You are gonna be missed my man. “F” for respect.)