Chapter 953

               

Piiing—

Raon flicked the blood off the Heavenly Drive and stared down at Farrell’s fallen body.

‘It’s over.’

Perhaps because he was only a half-formed Anima, with just one eye reversed in color, Farrell no longer moved after his heart burst. His breathing slowed, waiting for death to claim him.

‘So it’s time for the next stage?’

He was about to sheathe his sword, expecting the third trial of the first Head of House, when—

Wooooong!

Time itself seemed to rewind. The shattered floor and walls of the palace re-formed, and the wound carved into Farrell’s chest vanished as if it had never existed.

“What in the—”

Farrell trembled, staring at his unmarked chest, equally confused.

“I don’t know what just happened, but I won’t fall again. I’ll kill you for good this time!”

Snarling, he charged.

Claang!

Raon blocked the heavy, descending saw-toothed blade and frowned.

‘Even Farrell doesn’t know why he revived…’

Then it must be part of the first Head’s arrangement. He thought killing Farrell had ended the second trial, but apparently the Head still wasn’t satisfied.

“You won’t get another chance!”

Farrell roared, unleashing [Flame Dragon Strike].

Kuwaaaah!

A fiery dragon surged from his blade, crashing down to devour him whole.

Claang!

Raon deflected it using the linked forms of [Silent Incense] and [Flame Barrier], raising his sword to mid-guard.

“No matter what you try, you’ll never surpass my blade.”

Farrell’s eyes glinted with bloodlust.

“You sure talk a lot for someone who’s already died once.”

Raon sneered and launched [Thirty-Six Crimson Slashes].

“I’ll kill you with the same sword art.”

Farrell shouted back, hurling an even stronger [Thirty-Six Crimson Slashes].

Wooooong!

As Farrell’s faster sword stormed toward him, Raon narrowed his eyes.

‘The same again.’

He had to fill the sword art with the right insight.

The [Thirty-Six Crimson Slashes] refined [Crimson Slash] into a technique that pierced thirty-six directions simultaneously. It required a different kind of essence.

‘Let’s add the insight of Fluidity.’

To perfectly connect the thirty-six strikes, Raon imbued the sword with the essence of Flowing Swordsmanship.

Whooosh!

His flame-laden [Thirty-Six Crimson Slashes] collided with Farrell’s devastating attack.

Jja-ja-ja-jang!

Thirty-six lines of sword energy clashed head-on, echoing like thousands of steel beams shattering at once.

“I told you, you can’t win!”

Farrell’s lips twisted upward as his attack began to push Raon’s back.

“This time, it’s your chest that’s going to—huh?”

His grin froze.

Crack!

Though Raon had lost in the opening clash, he maintained all thirty-six lines perfectly until the end—and his technique pierced through Farrell’s sword.

“W-what?!”

Farrell stumbled back in disbelief as Raon stepped forward, flames still burning on his sword.

Kuwaaaah!

The blade’s fiery arc swept through Farrell’s entire body.

“Ghhh…”

His vital points were ripped apart, his body burning into ruin.

“Now it’s really over.”

But just as Raon slung the still-hot Heavenly Drive over his shoulder, the cracks in the ground sealed once more, and Farrell’s mangled body began to regenerate.

“You damned—!”

Farrell’s teeth ground audibly as he rose, trembling with rage and fear.

“What did you do to me?!”

He lunged, twisting with uncanny speed.

Ssshhhk!

His saw-toothed sword blurred into mist, impossible to predict—a style filled with illusion and transformation: [Silver Sword Dream], one of the Raon Zieghart Swordsmanship forms.

Srrring!

Raon mirrored him perfectly, releasing the extreme swiftness of the Quick Sword within his own [Silver Sword Dream].

Slaaash!

As Farrell’s hazy blade fell toward his neck, Raon’s sword burst upward like lightning, cutting through the mist and severing his throat—an evolved [Silver Sword Dream] that combined stillness with sudden motion.

“Kh…”

Farrell let out a faint groan, as if he hadn’t even realized he’d been cut, and collapsed.

Wooooong!

But he revived instantly, charging again.

Claang!

Their blades rang beneath the dark dawn sky. Through the broken ceiling, Raon saw the moon lowering slightly between clouds and smoke.

‘No way…’

Could this dawn continue until he mastered every sword art he’d ever learned with the Thousand Swords?

Judging by everything so far, the trial would end only when he’d perfected them all.

‘In that case…’

I’m fine with that.

To fight endlessly against someone this strong was an extraordinary blessing. The thought made him smile.

“Why… why are you laughing?!” Farrell shouted, enraged.

“Because I pity you.”

“What?”

He scowled in confusion.

“I counted how many times you’ll have to die. It’s a bit pitiful.”

Raon raised the Heavenly Drive, smirking arrogantly.

“Let’s make it a thousand.”

—

“Haa…”

Wrath stepped onto the ashen ground, exhaling a heavy sigh.

‘That was long.’

Even though he’d walked quickly, the sea had seemed endless. By his sense of time, it had taken over a month to reach land.

‘A tedious journey indeed.’

When he looked back, the once-black sea now shimmered with the same blue as his own hair.

‘And I walked through that…’

For a human, it would’ve been like walking barefoot across burning stone. It was grueling—but strangely, he’d never once felt like quitting.

‘Of course not.’

He had watched Raon’s life up close.

Raon Zieghart was the kind of lunatic who laughed through pain that tore flesh and shattered bone. Having seen that, this level of agony meant nothing.

‘Still… what is this place?’

Ahead lay a gray, ash-like land and mountains, much like the sand mountain he’d seen upon awakening.

‘I suppose I’m meant to climb that.’

He followed the colorless path toward a gray mountain. It wasn’t far—soon he reached its base.

‘Different from before.’

A black cave yawned halfway up the mountain, radiating a pull that tugged at his very soul.

‘The scent of Devildom… from the deepest layer.’

He stepped into the dim cavern, narrowing his eyes as a foul stench of memory filled his nose—a stench that reminded him of his own past.

*Tch.*

Clicking his tongue, he pressed deeper into the darkness. The path was smooth, but even his demonic sight could barely see. Only his hands and feet were visible in the gloom.

‘Can’t see, but there’s no choice but to move forward.’

Whatever he sought was here. He had to keep walking, no matter what awaited.

Erasing all thoughts, Wrath advanced into the dark.

—

“This is infuriating.”

He rubbed his temple with two fingers.

“When will this accursed path end?!”

He’d walked longer than he had across the sea, yet the tunnel still seemed endless, a bottomless abyss of night.

‘It shouldn’t be this far…’

At first, he had sensed his destination nearby. But now, after what felt like months, he still hadn’t reached it.

“Haa…”

He glanced back. He couldn’t see much, but the sheer distance was obvious.

‘No turning back. Forward is the only way.’

Even if he died of old age in this cave, he’d keep walking forward.

Step.

As he trudged through the dark, one face came to mind.

‘That damned brat… hope he’s doing well.’

Raon Zieghart. Though they hadn’t been together long, Wrath felt more affection for him than any subordinate he’d ever had.

‘That mountain must’ve been meant for him.’

If this sea and cave were his own trials, then the golden sand mountain was clearly meant for Raon’s growth.

He couldn’t sense Raon from this distance, but he could imagine what was happening.

‘No need to worry.’

He’ll be just fine.

Raon was a cockroach of a man—impossible to kill. Even thrown into Devildom, he’d probably devour a Demon King to survive. The thought actually comforted him.

‘Still, I need to find power here.’

His strength had waned badly.

‘I lost a lot, from the descent and helping that brat.’

Granting Raon abilities and traits had consumed much of his Authority, and descending during the war—or breaking causality itself—had drained even more. Without recovery, he’d fall behind not only Pride and Greed but even those beneath them.

‘I refuse to bow to any of them.’

Death was preferable to humiliation.

‘That’s why I was grateful.’

When they fought the Black Tower, Raon hadn’t used the option of descent, even when near death—he’d fought entirely on his own. For that, Wrath felt a flicker of gratitude.

‘So I must gain something here.’

The Chamber of Self had opened its doors not only for Raon but for him as well. It meant there was power to be reclaimed. He’d cling to the first Head of House’s leg if he had to.

Tap.

As he renewed his resolve and kept walking, his foot struck something.

‘Hm?’

Looking down, he saw the same full-body mirror that had brought both him and Raon here.

But the reflection wasn’t his current self.

Ssshh—

A child with blue hair and eyes rose within the mirror. Neither boy nor girl, the child smiled faintly.

“You’re late.”

The blue-haired child frowned as though having waited too long and stepped out of the mirror.

“I did wish for your recovery…”

Wrath scowled, veins tightening at his temple.

“…but not through such a filthy method.”

—

Crackle!

Thunder filled the heavens, forming blades of lightning—the [Sky-Piercing Thunder Art: Celestial Wolf Sword]. (T/N: Hmm, I think Sky-Piercing sounds a lot cooler than Azure Sky Sword lol. Moving forward I’ll use Sky-Piercing instead of Azure Sky Sword).

Rumble!

Farrell gathered all his might, unleashing the perfected art of the Sky-Piercing Sword—but the lightning blades tore through the sky and pierced his torso.

“Ghhh…!”

He looked down at the blackened hole in his chest, gasping.

“D-damn it…”

Despair clouded his eyes as he collapsed, his heart completely melted.

“The power was good—but the casting speed was too slow.”

Raon clicked his tongue at the scorched ground.

‘Maybe I’ll add the Quick Sword next time.’

He really had fought Farrell nearly a thousand times—refining every art from Ten Thousand Flames Cultivation to Sky-Piercing Thunder. Every sword he knew was now imbued with the essence of the Thousand Swords.

He didn’t tire. The joy of growth kept him going, his mind consumed only by how to forge better techniques.

‘Maybe I’ll return to Crimson Slash.’

After mastering Sky-Piercing Thunder, revisiting the basics didn’t sound bad. As he pondered, he noticed something different—Farrell’s wounds weren’t healing.

‘Could it be…’

Raon frowned as the corpse remained motionless.

‘It’s over?’

Since Farrell no longer revived, it seemed his current state had finally satisfied the first Head.

“One sword strike… as expected of you.”

The woman in the violet robe nodded in admiration.

“This is on another level entirely…”

Even the dying king chuckled weakly in disbelief.

‘Wait…’

Raon frowned, examining the body again.

‘Did the first Head of House kill him in a single strike?’

If this scene replayed the past, then yes—according to the woman’s words, the first Head had slain Farrell instantly.

“The sun will rise soon. The monsters will weaken. Let’s move.”

The violet-robed mage soared from the palace, calling to him.

“Th-thank you…”

The king, barely alive, smiled faintly and reached out a trembling hand.

“I’ll repay this debt, even in death. And he…”

As he began to whisper something important, the rising sun erased the darkness.

Wooooong!

A pillar of light from the sun descended, washing away everything around him.

‘What now?’

Everything vanished from view. The second trial had ended.

‘Long… and yet short.’

He couldn’t tell how much time had passed—perhaps a day, perhaps a year.

‘But one thing’s certain.’

I’ve grown stronger.

His aura and body hadn’t changed, but his swordsmanship—its essence—had evolved dramatically.

He could hardly wait to test it in reality.

Ssshhh!

As he practiced in the air, the sun reached its zenith.

Blinding golden light poured down, releasing a heat so fierce it threatened to melt his body and soul.

Hwaaaah!

The unbearable heat made him dizzy. Sweat drenched him; strength drained from his limbs. Within minutes, he’d collapse from suffocation.

‘Wh-what is this now…’

He had barely finished grasping the Thousand Swords, and now the sun’s heat bore down upon him.

‘Surely it doesn’t mean to… cut the sun? Wait—ah!’

As he squinted up at the golden sun, a memory surfaced.

‘Lord Balkan’s charcoal kiln!’

He recalled his first training in Ten Thousand Flames Cultivation—how he’d absorbed heat from Balkan’s furnace.

It seemed the first Head intended to raise his mastery through this blazing sun.

‘Whatever the reason…’

He forced a smile and sat beneath the searing light, enduring as his skin felt like it was melting.

‘I’ll accept it gratefully.’

For my vengeance.

Raon vowed never to give up and activated the Ten Thousand Flames Cultivation to its utmost limit.

Around him, a heat fiercer than hellfire began to rise.