Chapter 1027
Episode 247: The Liberation War of Laprarosa (15)
“You seem tense. It’s amusing hearing you say such things.”
Swish!
Once again, a violet blade of energy sliced past Luna’s face. Had she not reacted instinctively, her head would have been severed.
“You’re already facing everything I possess.”
More chilling to Luna’s spine than the two violet blades that grazed her face was that very statement.
“So it seems I was the one unprepared.”
Krantel’s blade glowed with an even sharper crimson light.
Simat’s method of ‘postponing death’ had long since passed its limited time. At this point, it wouldn’t be surprising if Simat’s body suddenly vanished without warning.
Yet Luna judged that relying on that belief to stall would be futile. Even if the fight dragged on for days or weeks, she was certain Simat wouldn’t disappear until one of them fell.
Even without seeing it, she could sense it—the indomitable will of the warrior known as Simat.
Simat’s violet blade wavered.
Though she could read the direction, gauging the exact distance was impossible. If she anticipated one step and dodged, the blade would press two steps deeper. If she expected two steps and countered, only a gust of wind would meet her strike.
“Is this thanks to Cheongpungje’s training? You’ve improved a bit since last time.”
Already, Luna’s body bore more than five small wounds. She could feel the violet energy seeping into her veins, burning her blood.
“Humans of this era are truly fascinating. You’ve only wielded a sword for a few decades, yet you’re this strong. And not long after our first fight, you’ve grown even more. I once thought all this was an unfair consequence of the sun god’s absence…”
Crack! The violet blade twisted toward Krantel’s direction. Luna threw a punch straight at Simat’s face, now mere inches away.
With a sharp crack and a gust of wind, Luna’s destructive strike—so characteristic of her—landed. But in the next instant, the scattered wind coalesced sharply, forcing Simat to dodge a stab aimed at his back.
The strongest swordsmanship resembles the wind.
Both Luna and Simat recalled Eltiot’s teachings—not just the sword, but the entire body and movement must emulate the wind to reach mastery.
In that sense, Luna’s punch was a whirlwind. Simat stepped with precise footwork and stabbed at the core of the wind formed by her strike.
The core exploded, releasing a sharp energy back toward Luna. Though blocked by Krantel, Luna was pushed back a step, her stance faltering.
The old Simat would have seized that opening. But he immediately recognized it as a fatal bluff.
So Luna laid traps with her life on the line every moment.
Yet she remained calm. Her gaze was steady, her heart beating firm and composed.
“Now that I see it, this isn’t so bad. It wouldn’t be fun if I knew exactly which way the wind blows.”
Simat charged boldly into the bluff. Luna swung Krantel aiming for his neck, but Simat smoothly evaded and counterattacked.
His relentless assault left no room for feints. Violet blades filled her vision, and Luna barely dodged relying on instinct and prediction.
A breath escaped her without her realizing.
At that moment, Luna sensed the will of the ‘red energy.’ It spoke to her as if urging her to act on something long awaited—telling her it was time to fully accept it.
‘A tired temptation. Begone.’
Like a spring drying up, the red energy faded. Krantel’s aura shifted to a normal white glow, and the red gleam in her eyes vanished.
With the red energy gone, her movements suddenly felt heavier, her reactions slower. Simat noticed the change and nodded inwardly.
Because Luna had just become an even more dangerous opponent. To Simat, she hadn’t abandoned the red power.
She had transcended it. The slight sluggishness was trivial; from now on, she would see more clearly, as if the fog had lifted.
She could discern the exact moment to strike, to evade, to advance—not by instinct, but by her own eyes and will.
Luna herself felt this and smiled faintly.
“Indeed, as you said, a fight where the outcome is already decided is boring. So that’s why you wear such a satisfied expression now.”
A sword strike that could shatter mountains, a blow that could overturn the earth, a massive flash that could slash the sky and sea.
From the start, their battle had been far from such overwhelming clashes—and with time, it drifted even further from that.
Each time Luna and Simat moved, a calm yet weighty wind spread. The remnants of Kree, swept by the wind, floated in the air before breaking into particles.
Dust from the debris swirled between them, clouding their vision. In the dust storm that no one could fully read, their swords continued to tilt toward each other.
They moved like black shadows—sometimes swift enough to leave afterimages, other times tracing slow, fluid arcs as if underwater.
Their blades brushed each other with a gentle, wave-like rhythm. The clashing sounds grew less frequent, until even the splatter of blood was audible.
Soon, both felt as if they stood not on a battlefield but a quiet plain. Their two swords tangled like grass swaying in the wind.
No more feints or counters existed. The fight had evolved into an even contest.
Now, each had to find themselves within the other’s wind. Silver and violet breezes mingled with dust, drifting like a dream.
‘This kind of fight… it’s a first for me. Had I truly faced Cheongpungje back then, this would have been it.’
Simat saw Eltiot in Luna.
Soft yet strong, strong yet graceful, graceful yet unyielding. Something embodying Eltiot’s essence stirred within Krantel.
It was also Simat confronting a shadow he had long avoided—guilt that had lingered since he betrayed Eltiot.
A remorseful heart, a desire for forgiveness, and deep down, a yearning to admire him as he was. Simat felt it all keenly.
He had chosen the life of the Adept Tribe’s leader, not Simat the man. When asked what drove him to betray Eltiot, he now had a simple answer.
It wasn’t some grand cause to reclaim the sun god.
‘It was just… youthful recklessness.’
Simat immersed himself in self-reflection. Yet, being inherently ahead of Luna, he naturally parried her strikes.
And then, he heard voices.
The voices of vengeful comrades echoed within the dark hull. Lima Gas, his loyal subordinate; the Great War Kings; every War King and warrior whose name he remembered. Their voices began to torment his soul like thorns and chains.
Why are you enjoying such a satisfying fight here?
Why do you seek a beautiful end alone when our dreams were trampled and we perished?
What did you do while we died?
His comrades pressed him relentlessly. How could the warrior of the Adept Tribe stoop to such disgrace?
And these voices were no illusions or hallucinations.
They were the voices of his comrades—not the Adept Tribe’s true form.
When the dark voice of chaos pierced his eardrums, Simat’s eyes widened involuntarily as he looked around.
Amid Luna’s gathering wind, the voices came again. “You’re defiling our last moments.”
“Where… are you? Where do you speak from?”
—At least you’ll die a proper death. That’s fortunate for you.
Jin’s words echoed once more.
Though he asked where the voices came from, Simat already knew. These were the anguished souls of his comrades trapped in Lokhia’s chaos.
They could never find peace. From the moment Simat borrowed the power of chaos, from the moment he saw it as merely a factor to turn the tide, the Adept Tribe’s fate was sealed.
Though Simat himself might overcome it through the will of the warrior, he could not change the horrific fate of all his comrades.
He had forgotten. Only now awakening to the truth of his past mistakes. Had he not forgotten, he might have changed others’ fates like Jin did. At least, he could have ensured a peaceful end.
“Enough… I…”
Simat’s blade began to tremble. The wind that once blew from his sword rapidly dried up.
Swoosh!
Luna swung Krantel, pushing away the chaotic energy that had surrounded him. She too had sensed the voices of the Adept Tribe caught in chaos.
“Simat, don’t drag the burdens you’ll bear after your body vanishes into this fight.”
Simat immediately felt the voices fade. Luna’s calm gaze met his.
“Luna Runkandel…”
“I could have killed you many times just now. But that’s not the way we agreed upon. Whether you defeat me or not, you will suffer eternally alongside those voices. What you and your comrades have done cannot be forgiven, even in death.”
The difference between Luna and Simat was born within their hearts.
Simat focused solely on himself, while Luna kept her eyes locked not only on herself but also on the enemy before them. Luna hadn’t come just to kill Simat—she had come to surpass him.
“So, be present in this moment. The ultimate realm of nothingness I’ve long awaited and yearned for isn’t something that would falter or weaken so easily.”
In the now quiet battlefield, the two stood facing each other, swords drawn.