The Reincarnated Assassin Is a Genius Swordsman

Chapter 1515 -Th-this crazy bastard! Wrath's jaw dropped open, as if he couldn't believe it. -P-pull it out right now! You're really going to die! He shouted at Raon in a near-scream, telling him to hurry and pull the sword out of his chest. 'Th-this….' Despite Wrath's shout, Raon instead drove the Heavenly Drive even deeper into his chest. 'I told you, it's the answer.' Though he clearly felt tremendous pain and gritted his teeth, he never once pulled the sword out, pushing it in even deeper instead. -H-how can this possibly be the answer! Wrath flailed his hand as if this made no sense at all. -This is just suicide! He shook his head fiercely, calling it suicide born of failing to overcome fear. 'D-Derus Robert died by my hand. And I killed him for certain, too. He….' Raon continued, drawing labored breaths. 'He must have died and then come back to life.' Derus Robert had certainly died once. He hadn't survived—he had clearly used death aura to revive himself. 'And after that….' Raon frowned as he scanned Derus Robert's forces visible beneath the Dance of the Golden Flame. 'He became a monster capable of controlling death itself.' After all, he'd even resurrected the dead from the Swamp of Death. Just as he himself had said, Derus Robert had appeared as a god who bestowed death upon his enemies and withdrew death from his allies. He had clearly awakened to the truth of death by dying himself. -Th-that's only because that bastard Derus Robert knows death aura so well! Wrath ground his teeth and shook his head. -Whereas you know absolutely nothing about death aura! He wrinkled his nose, telling him not to talk nonsense. 'Not as much as Derus Robert, sure. But….' Raon's mouth twisted as he felt the death aura seething more fiercely the deeper his wound grew. 'I know some of it. Death aura is a yin energy that grows stronger the closer death and darkness draw near.' Life was yang, death was yin. The living wore yang energy, and the dead held yin energy. Death aura, just as now, amplified its power to a terrifying degree the closer death approached. Kuguguguguguu! The death aura, once pushed into a corner and suppressed by the Dan Ak Gong, had by now grown to a scale so vast it threatened to swallow even its own Master. There was no need to cultivate, no need to gather mana. Simply by death drawing near, so immense a death had condensed that it could push back the Dan Ak Gong at full power. 'I don't need power like Derus Robert's, to revive the dead. Just….' Raon's mouth twisted as he watched the black blood flowing down from his chest. 'Just enough to recover and fight again.' Judging by the dragon's diminished Martial Prowess and Michael's reactions, it was certain—Derus Robert was still hiding something even now. To shatter it, he couldn't afford to fall here. 'Only I….' Raon closed his eyes as he sensed Derus Robert's wicked aura. '—can stop him.' It wasn't that he was dismissing the Heavenly Demon or Pride. Derus Robert could only be stopped by someone who truly understood him. And right now, he himself was the only one who could do that. -B-but even so…. Wrath, sensing Raon's resolve, swallowed hard as though astonished. 'That's why I'm taking the challenge.' Raon nodded as he gripped the tip of the Heavenly Drive with a trembling hand. 'Because overcoming death is far better than just dying like this.' Declaring that he would overcome death, he twisted the Heavenly Drive lodged in his chest. Kkeudeudeudeuk! With a chilling sound of bone and flesh twisting and breaking, Raon's breath cut off abruptly. * * * -H-hey! Bastard! Wrath shook Raon's shoulder with a trembling hand. -Raon! Raon! He called Raon's name, a rare thing for him, and struck wildly at his head. -Get up already! But Raon, as though he had truly died, couldn't move so much as a finger. -H-he's really dead? Wrath's chin trembled as if he couldn't believe it. -This crazy bastard…. Until now, Raon had faced countless brushes with death and mortal wounds. There had even been times he'd been driven to the brink, fainted, and been reported dead—but this was the first time his breath had truly stopped. -Just why would you do that! Wrath screamed and shook Raon, but this time too, he didn't wake. -There must have been other ways, so why the most dangerous one of all! It wasn't that he couldn't understand Raon's feelings. Their allies' losses had grown severe, the enemy kept increasing, and it was clear that Derus Robert was hiding something. But no matter how dire the situation, killing himself to recover body and mind was far too low a gamble. If Wrath had a body of his own, he would have stopped him somehow, but existing only as a spirit, there was nothing he could do. -He could've just asked this King for help instead! Wrath gritted his teeth and shook his head. -No, even that's difficult now. The earlier descent had thrown off the balance of the Sword Domain to summon him. Raon must have known that and chosen not to even mention it. -Honestly, all that pointless consideration of his. Wrath gritted his teeth as he looked at Raon, whose breath had stopped. -Right now, all I can do is really just believe. He nodded heavily, sensing that just as Raon had said, the only way was to overcome death. -Raon Zieghart. Wrath let out a deep sigh and called Raon's name. -If you really die, I'll kill you myself! Wrath hurled the threat at Raon, who could no longer hear him, and rapped him on the head. -Now then…. Wrath gazed at Raon for a long while before lifting his eyes beyond the Dance of the Golden Flame. Kuuuuuuung! Derus Robert's Sword of Beloved Death clashed against the Heavenly Demon's fist, and a terrifying shockwave spread across the entire sky. -Hmm. Wrath let out a sound of admiration at the sight of the Heavenly Demon's fist forcibly twisting the path of the Sword of Beloved Death. -That guy hasn't just been sitting around. Naturally, for a martial artist who fought with fists, the arm was more important than anything else as a Weapon. Though losing his Right Arm was a greater loss for the Heavenly Demon than a Swordsman losing his sword, he was pushing back Derus Robert with Martial Prowess no less than before. -No need to even look over there. Wrath snorted at the fight between the Monarch of Pride and Archangel Michael. -He's trash, but his Martial Prowess is the real deal, at least. Pride was a Demon Wrath disliked more than anyone, but there was no denying his Martial Prowess. Even now, he was tearing Archangel Michael's power to shreds. -The problem's over there, though…. Wrath clicked his tongue at the sight of the Dark Night Sword God, Darkan, standing off against the Demonic Dragon of Destruction. -Hm? Not as bad as I thought. Darkan had cast aside his pride and was suppressing the dragon's power by wielding the Vast Heaven Sword left behind by the First Patriarch of Zieghart. Winning outright wouldn't be easy, but it seemed enough to buy time. -That leaky plan of yours is coming together, at least somewhat. Now…. Wrath clicked his tongue as he looked at Raon within the Dance of the Golden Flame. -All that's left is for you to get up. He sighed as he descended once more to Raon's side. -Don't you dare die, and keep your promise. You're…. Wrath bit his lip as he scattered Cold Energy like a crown over Raon's head. -Because you're the one who has to become King, not just of the Human World, but of the Devildom too! * * * Deep. Was it said that death doesn't come rushing in, but seeps in instead? As if testing just how far a soul could sink, he was seeping, very slowly, into a bottomless swamp. Memories blurred, and the sensations of the body faded away. Even the faint, flickering light vanished, and all he could do was surrender his body to the endless sinking swamp. The inside of death was quiet. Unlike what people said, there was no bleak wind, no eerie light. Even pain was erased. The sword forms he'd spent his whole life mastering, his family's voices, the warmth of someone he could never forget—all dissolved like faded paint. It was comfortable. Death, like a blanket, warmly covered over all the pain and anguish of the past. That was precisely why it was terrifying. A realm of nothingness where he could feel nothing, think nothing. Even if he wanted to cut something, there was nothing to cut. He couldn't even recall his own name. He had lost his name, lost his face, lost his voice, even lost his sword—but one thing still remained. A hollow sense that he hadn't yet seen the end. It wasn't vengeance still unfulfilled even after experiencing death once. Bonds. Threads of fate connecting one person to another, born as human beings, were holding up his soul. Some were blue, some were red, and others were black as death itself. Yet not a single one of those threads let go of him. The soul that had lost its name grasped the nearest thread. The name given to him by the person he respected most rose to mind. Raon Zieghart. The family who had called him by that name appeared vividly before him. As Raon grasped the second thread, his hollow chest filled with warmth, and he thought of the companions who had walked with him. The faces of his master Rimmer, and the friends and comrades-in-arms he'd fought alongside, rose up before him. When he gripped the third thread, the black one, this time a pain like his flesh being torn to shreds surged through him. All the effort and battles Raon had endured until now dwelled within that black thread. Even a bitter bond was still a bond. The black thread let him know exactly what he had to do. The moment he realized who he was, who the people he loved were, and even who his enemies were, a Fire Seed ignited deep within his chest. Fwaaaaah. Raon reached out his hand, feeling the flame's heat beating in place of his heart. He curled his fingers and swung, as though gripping a sword in the empty air where nothing existed. The start was always a downward strike. Feeling again the sensation in his palm from the very first time he'd gripped and swung a sword, he swung the blade that didn't exist. When he had run through every swordsmanship technique he'd ever learned, from the most basic forms to the ones he'd created himself, he felt his soul, which had sunk deep into death, slowly begin to rise. Raon turned his body, sensing the death that had seeped deep into his soul now leaving. It wasn't to see the bottom of the swamp—he kept looking down until he escaped it, so as to carve into his memory, never to forget again, the threads of fate that had held up his soul and kept him from sinking into death. It was just as Raon, having engraved the bonds in his heart once more, was about to turn his gaze from the receding edge of the swamp. Something appeared at the edge of the Swamp of Death. A person. His face was tiny and blurred, but strangely, it looked as vivid as if he stood right before his eyes. Raon's eyes went wide at the sight of the face of the person standing in the Swamp of Death. That was no one else's face but my own. I stood atop death, smiling. They say that if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss also gazes into you. He was leaving death behind, and yet death had also come to touch him more deeply than ever. Feeling that true death now walked with him, Raon dissolved into the crimson light.