Chapter 464
Episode 131: Those with Good Instincts, Those Without (8)
Dark, energy-infused blades sliced through the dense hail of gunfire, all aimed straight at Amela.
Each one targeted a vital point without exception. Even through the torn barrage, Jin’s sharp, unwavering gaze burned with a fierce, resolute killing intent.
It was genuine. Jin had made up his mind to kill Amela.
The murderous intent was so vivid, so tangible, it felt like a dark, poisonous mass ready to take shape. Amela flinched, a chill running down her spine.
Clang!
Their eyes locked, and Jin and Amela clashed weapons, testing each other’s strength. The barrels of the cannon formed by Bradamante and the black energy scraped together with an unpleasant screech.
So, unlike Sister Yona, she’s not losing her composure despite sensing the spiritual energy. Is it because the nature or scale of the chaos is different? Or is there something else at play?
Whatever the reason, it didn’t matter for the fight at hand. In fact, it might have been easier if she had lost her mind—then she wouldn’t be able to use her full strength.
Jin tried to pull his blade away from the cannon’s barrel to strike again, but suddenly felt something hard gripping Bradamante tightly.
Thorns.
Out of nowhere, spikes like a hedgehog’s quills had wrapped around the barrel, tangling and trapping Bradamante.
Jin struggled to tear them off, creating a brief opening. Naturally, Amela seized the chance and detonated a bomb right at Jin’s head—an explosive conjured instantly from black energy.
The roar was deafening, threatening to burst eardrums. But thanks to Multa’s runes and armor, Jin suffered no real damage.
Meanwhile, Murakan was trying to protect Lata and Fey, but as he ran, he suddenly sensed something unfamiliar and dangerous beneath his feet and quickly pulled back.
Had he been a moment slower, he would have been seriously injured. Explosions erupted where he had just stepped.
“Hah… What the hell? Bombs exploding underground?”
Murakan clicked his tongue, eyeing the cratered earth. This kind of attack matched what Valkas had warned him about.
Only Amela used these methods: bombs detonating beneath the ground, arrows fired with time delays, all sorts of traps and strange devices.
Normally, such tactics would require preparation and time, but infinite black energy was filling in the gaps.
Following her will, weapons and traps formed relentlessly all around—cannons, bombs, massive guillotines, thorny nets, rapid-fire crossbows.
If it weren’t for the Jin-Murakan duo, if it were any other warrior or mage below ten stars, they would have been helpless. Even a famous knight order or an entire mage corps would have fared no better.
But the matchup was disastrously unfavorable.
Curses had no effect, so no openings could be created. Her firearms and weapons were suited for mass destruction but ill-equipped to break through the defenses of top-tier warriors and mages.
Of course.
With infinite black energy, matchups didn’t really matter. As long as the fight dragged on until one side died, Amela would win. Her opponent would inevitably tire.
Swish!
Bradamante carved a sharp diagonal slash. Amid the relentless barrage and activated traps, Jin endured with evasions and his spiritual energy armor, steadily closing the distance to Amela.
Her reactions to my attacks aren’t on par with the best knights I know.
When two fully exposed fighters clash without preparation, without infinite power, Amela wouldn’t be able to beat Jin.
Without infinite power and ultra-regeneration, she wouldn’t be such a difficult opponent.
Jin’s faith rested on Tess’s flames.
When he cut through Myron’s hellgate, when he severed Zephyrin’s pocket dimension, Cheonghwa had already proven it. If this black energy core space was the source of Amela’s infinite power, he could handle it just the same.
If pressure didn’t work, even if it meant destroying an entire island—or erasing an entire archipelago from the map—Jin was determined to settle things with Amela.
But there was one strange thing.
Why is she fighting so stupidly?
Jin’s description of her fighting as “stupid” wasn’t without reason.
Amela kept dodging or blocking his attacks, as if she had no ultra-regeneration at all.
Give a little to take a lot. With the level of regeneration she’d shown until now, she could have applied that principle every moment.
She could have deliberately allowed attacks to create openings, made her opponent careless, or even tried to self-destruct at any moment.
If she had ultra-regeneration, Jin would have fought that way, of course—not desperately dodging black blades with gritted teeth like Amela.
Was it simply that she hated pain itself, regardless of regeneration? That didn’t explain why she had cut off her own left wrist to prove her regeneration.
No way.
Jin’s eyes narrowed inside Multa’s runes.
Glancing toward Murakan, he saw black spiritual energy standing out through the black energy forming bombs and shields. Murakan was holding back, not breaking through recklessly to protect the Prochi siblings.
And every time that spiritual energy appeared, Amela’s breathing shifted subtly, as if barely suppressing fear.
You can’t fool me.
Fear can’t be hidden or faked against someone like Jin—not by a mediocre warrior.
“Looks like wounds inflicted by spiritual energy can’t be healed, Lady Amela.”
Amela’s eyes widened beneath her hooded camouflage cloak.
How did he know that!?
She almost answered aloud but swallowed hard instead. Bradamante’s blade slashed past her shoulder.
Snikt!
A piece of her camouflage fell away, scattering leaves and twigs. Bright red blood splattered through the gap.
Amela hadn’t reacted properly to the strike. Though the cloak was quickly repaired by black energy, Jin caught the moment just before the leaves and twigs reformed.
Her shoulder didn’t regenerate.
It was unnatural for the cloak to regenerate before the shoulder itself.
That gave Jin certainty: spiritual energy could at least partially neutralize the chaos powers Amela wielded.
“Seems the talkative one has gone quiet. That confirms it.”
Whoosh!
A fierce flame wrapped around the spiritual energy coating Jin’s blade.
“I’ll send you off without too much pain.”
The spiritual energy and blue flames deepened. Watching the unwavering blade pointed at her, Amela felt a chilling premonition.
At this rate, I’m definitely going to die!
She had fought on countless battlefields—mercenary, embodiment of war, nightmare of the Gaipa Archipelago. Her titles spoke volumes about the life she’d lived.
There had been suffocatingly fierce wars and battlefields as comfortable as playgrounds. She enjoyed war, but never before had she felt death’s threat so intensely.
Like many titles, the names Amela earned never revealed the truth beneath.
For example, why she cared so little about the world despite all the wars she’d endured, or why she had lived for years without even knowing the name Jin Runkandel, who had set the world ablaze.
Chaos.
Amela had spent her life listening only to the voice of chaos within her.
Chaos kept her from blending into ordinary life, from caring about others or the outside world. The Prochi siblings were the only exception, because they carried the “scent of chaos.”
No one had ever taught her what loneliness was amid life and death on the battlefield, nor had she met anyone strong enough to guide her.
Even if she had, in a place where everyone fought desperately to kill each other, such bonds could never form.
The power of chaos clouded countless emotions she should have felt.
In a way, Amela was like a child abandoned alone in her own world. Thanks to chaos, she naturally became a mercenary, but in truth, she was little different from a beast.
I’m scared… I don’t want to die!
Some might mock Amela’s desire to live.
After all, she had killed countless people on the battlefield and rarely spared those who annoyed her.
But was that truly the will of a pitiful infant thrown into a well at birth? Or was it the will of chaos?
One thing was certain: no one had ever led Amela before.
The spiritual energy and blue flames no longer just stood out amid the barrage—they pushed the hail of fire away, growing immense.
“Kid! The snake’s eyes are saved! Now let’s smash them to pieces without worry!”
While Amela lost focus, paralyzed by fear, Murakan managed to retrieve the Prochi siblings.
There was no need to hold back anymore.
“If this is the blade you wield, then your final act will be worthy of the reputation you’ve built your whole life.”
The blue flames and spiritual energy scattered all around surged instantly toward Jin.
Soon, Jin became the embodiment of deep blue flame itself.
The magic sword technique of Sara Runkandel—the Blaze of Vengeance. With eyes burning like a judge’s, Jin looked down at Amela.
The blue flame illuminated her face, hidden beneath a hood of tangled leaves.
Amela’s face was impossibly young, almost childlike—hard to believe she was the same age as Balkas.
For some reason, Jin felt uneasy.
Even though he had long since grown accustomed to a world where killing and dying were the norm.
“If only this had been a good meeting…”
Shaking off the distracting thought, Jin swung his sword, ready to unleash the Blaze of Vengeance.
“S-surrender!”
Suddenly, Amela flung out both hands wildly, shouting desperately.
“Surrender! I’m sorry, please stop…!”
She even collapsed to her knees, shaking her head frantically.
“What…?”
Jin’s mind raced with a thousand possibilities at her sudden outburst.
“Is this some trap to buy time, or is she sincere? Even if it’s the latter, is sparing her the right choice? She’s already pledged herself to Kinzel, after all.”
If he forced himself to retract the half-formed Blaze, he risked severe internal injury.
But Jin made his decision.
For now, he would spare her and hear her out. Though he couldn’t stop the Blaze entirely.
“Murakan!”
The Bradamante, dyed in sword-blue flames, descended toward Amela, and Jin gritted his teeth as he called out the name of his guardian dragon.