Episode 113
Synchronization of Darkness.
Two artifacts of shadow, known as the Shadow Cloak and Hunger, were merging into one.
Dale’s shadow prosthetic arm acted as the intricate gear mechanism that brought the two artifacts together.
Like perfectly interlocking gears, the artifacts fused, creating a synergy beyond their individual powers.
This fusion and control of the dark artifacts were largely due to Dale’s formidable will, but more importantly, there was a definitive focal point binding the gears together.
Four circles wrapped around Dale’s heart, with jet-black tendrils deeply rooted in both his heart and the circles. Another source of his dark power as a mage.
The Book of the Black Goat.
Aligning his powers into their optimal form, Dale lifted his head.
His old beloved sword, Peacemaker, was charging toward him.
A knight’s sword wielded with the aura within his body. And this was no ordinary strike—it was from Mikhail Lancaster, a genius hailed as the closest to the Seven Swords of the Continent.
A mage who had allowed a knight to close the distance. No, from the start, the distance between them was enough to spell defeat for any ordinary mage.
Clang!
Yet, the sound of clashing steel echoed. Gasps were heard all around.
At least here in the Saxon estate, no one doubted Dale’s extraordinary talent. But his opponent was none other than Mikhail Lancaster, the empire’s greatest genius with a sword!
To parry a knight of such caliber at this range was astonishing.
“The aura…”
Hunger and Peacemaker’s blades clashed, and amidst the struggle, Dale spoke calmly, observing the aura enveloping Peacemaker’s blade.
It was not the formless aura he remembered from the fight club.
“It has color now.”
A crimson aura blade.
The color of cruel nobility symbolizing the Lancaster Duchy.
“Thanks to you, Lord Dale.”
In the midst of their struggle, Mikhail Lancaster smiled.
“That unforgettable defeat taught me a lesson beyond compare.”
”…”
They parted, only to close the distance again. The two swords clashed, and Dale’s shadow cloak transformed into six blades, striking at Mikhail Lancaster.
From the shadows of the scattered blades, the Shadow Lurker unleashed its barbed tendrils.
Swoosh!
Yet, Mikhail’s crimson sword whirled like a vortex, deflecting Dale’s onslaught from all directions.
Though he couldn’t fully utilize Peacemaker’s abilities, Mikhail’s sword effortlessly repelled Dale’s shadows, as if he had no need to rely on the sword’s powers.
‘He’s strong.’
Not just a current powerhouse, but a rising star growing alongside Dale. Mikhail Lancaster’s talent was undeniable.
But what surprised Dale even more was something else.
Back at the fight club, Mikhail’s specialty was a formless aura and a serpentine sword style that targeted blind spots, akin to an assassin’s blade.
Yet now, before Dale stood a different Mikhail Lancaster. Not a formless sword, but a knight’s sword glowing with crimson aura.
“You’ve developed a new sword style.”
“It wasn’t easy.”
He had discarded all his accumulated swordsmanship to rebuild his own style from scratch. The phrase “grinding one’s bones” didn’t even begin to cover it.
It was akin to Dale abandoning his black-blue magic to learn a new attribute.
“But it was worth it.”
Mikhail said, adjusting his grip on the crimson knight’s sword, Peacemaker.
“So, won’t you show me as well?”
“What do you mean?”
“How much the ‘Black Prince’ who defeated me that day has grown. The achievements you’ve built as the empire’s greatest genius.”
Mikhail’s words were almost a provocation, and Dale fell silent.
The cursed sword Hunger was a blade that devoured magic. Against a knight using aura, it was merely an ordinary sword.
But with the two dark artifacts now intertwined, Mikhail couldn’t possibly imagine the card Dale was about to play.
And without using such a card, victory against this opponent was not easily assured.
‘He’s an opponent I’ll have to face eventually.’
And when that time comes, it won’t be a simple game like now.
Thus, rather than hiding his cards and risking defeat, it was better to go all out while he could.
From the lake of darkness that engulfed the area, a new shadow creature emerged.
It wasn’t a Lurker.
Shadow Knights… knights of shadow. And in their hands was the cursed sword, Malice of Hunger.
By merging the two dark artifacts, Dale imbued the power and malice of the cursed sword into the shadow cloak’s creations.
A replication of the cursed sword.
By arming each shadow creation with a replicated cursed sword, he instantly summoned a force equivalent to death knights.
Moreover, the Shadow Lurker hadn’t disappeared. It lay in wait beneath the lake of darkness Dale had spread, aiming its barbed tendrils at Mikhail’s openings.
The marble floor of the Saxon estate was submerged in the lake of darkness, from which shadow knights and lurkers emerged.
There stood the Shadow Lord, commanding an immeasurable army of darkness.
“Perhaps my provocation was too much.”
Facing the overwhelming army of the Black Prince, Mikhail responded with intrigue.
He planted his sword vertically into the ground, leaving the charging shadow creations behind.
At first, it seemed like a gesture of surrender. But it wasn’t.
Peacemaker, imbued with crimson aura, was dispelling the lake of darkness from around Mikhail’s feet.
Simultaneously, the light of peace within Peacemaker began to surge throughout the area.
The Compulsion of Peace.
A world where no wound could be inflicted by a swung sword, and flames could not burn flesh.
Not a mere imitation, but the undeniable power of the original.
Dale’s shadow creations, swinging out of sync, passed through Mikhail Lancaster’s body like fleeting illusions.
“The Arbiter of Peace.”
Spreading Peacemaker’s power, Mikhail spoke calmly, adjusting his grip on the beloved sword’s hilt.
“The power within this sword is, quite literally, the power to grasp peace in this world.”
Dale scoffed at Mikhail’s words.
“Have you forgotten how much blood that Arbiter of Peace has spilled in this world?”
“Peace always comes with sacrifice.”
Mikhail continued.
“The hero from another world who wielded this sword taught me that truth.”
A hero from another world. For a moment, Dale’s blood ran cold.
”…You speak as if the hero from another world is some kind of idol.”
“Since childhood, I’ve admired him. An undeniable hero of the empire.”
Mikhail smiled without denying it.
“And as you can see, we live in the world of peace he achieved.”
“A world of peace achieved by the hero, you say?”
“If you desire peace, prepare for war. At least the hero understood the meaning of those words.”
With the light of peace radiating from Peacemaker behind him, Mikhail spoke. Dale clenched his lips.
“You seem to overestimate the hero from another world.”
“No, the hero from another world was undoubtedly a patriot who desired peace for the empire.”
Mikhail said.
“And he taught me that peace without sacrifice cannot exist.”
With unwavering conviction, without a hint of doubt in his beliefs.
“Peace can only be achieved through war.”
“When did the word ‘peace’ become synonymous with a sea of blood?”
“Is it not true?”
Mikhail retorted. His confidence left Dale momentarily speechless.
“Does a peace that can be achieved without bloodshed even exist in this world?”
Unintentionally, Dale recalled the elder of the Red Tower, who had poured malice upon him and Sepia during their time at the academy in the imperial capital.
Walter the Bloodthirsty, a 6th-circle red mage. Dale vividly remembered the madness in his beliefs.
──Blood, blood, only blood!
──The wheels of this world turn only through the shedding of blood!
Peace can only be achieved through war. How was this different from that man’s madness? It was beyond laughable.
Yet, Dale himself had once mocked King Charles VII of the Kingdom of Britannia, saying the same thing.
“That’s why I swore to inherit the hero’s will with this sword and achieve perfect peace.”
“Ah, is that so.”
The empire’s hound. The butcher. Mikhail surely knew how people had once pointed fingers at the hero from another world. Yet, there wasn’t a trace of hesitation in Mikhail’s expression.
Only then did I truly understand. The Empire of Fire and Light. The aura of red and white that enveloped Mikhail Lancaster’s sword, Peacemaker, was indeed the very essence of ‘the colors of fire and light.’
This was the Empire’s justice, its peace, and the true nature of the ‘ruthless nobility’ that the Lancaster Dukedom so fervently proclaimed.
Against the Apostle of Darkness, the Shadow Lord… stood the Apostle of Fire and Light.
“Even the infamous ‘Black Prince’ wouldn’t be able to shatter the ideology of this sword,” Mikhail Lancaster declared, scattering the power of Peacemaker as if to flaunt it.
The ideology of Peacemaker. The power of peace. This was no ordinary sword. It was a transcendent blade, wielding a force akin to magic, as if a high mage had cast their ideology upon the world.
‘A power akin to magic…?’
At that moment, something flashed through Dale’s mind.
‘It’s worth a try.’
And there was no reason to hesitate. Within the peace that Peacemaker radiated, Dale launched himself forward.
In the barrier of Peacemaker that nullified all acts of aggression, the black magic sword ‘Gluttony’ was swung.
Dale remembered the ability that ‘Gluttony’ had once shown him—a voracious sword that devoured magic.
The transcendent power that Peacemaker displayed did not originate from its aura. In a sense, it was truly a power akin to magic.
Crash!
That was why the sound of shattering glass echoed through the air.
“How…!”
“As you said, Lord Mikhail,” Dale replied, adjusting his grip on the hilt.
“Do you desire peace?”
“Then we must wage war.”