Sword Devouring Swordmaster-Chapter 85 : Chapter 85

Chapter 85 — The Light (4)
Why did I still wander this world? I could not know.
Countless religions and spirits had spoken of life after death.
They claimed that when a living being died, its soul returned to the embrace of the Nine Goddesses and the Seven Lords.
If one defied the laws laid by the gods, they warned, that soul would fall to the deepest depths of hell and suffer for eternity.
Yet I neither ascended to the heavens nor fell into hell. I merely drifted between—a wandering wraith, lost in the void.
“……”
Was this the will of the gods? A divine decree commanding me to remain in the mortal realm, to fulfill what I could not in life? Or perhaps, my will—so close to obsession—had twisted into resentment, turning me into a vengeful spirit bound to this world.
The shamans of the East once said: those who die with a strong regret remain, unable to depart.
I could not say. Before me lay a scorched land.
A land trampled into ruin.
My people—those I once shepherded—wandered lost and hopeless.
The era of war had devoured them.
Those who once laughed together now wept in pain.
And yet—
“Founder, I ask for your counsel.”
Even amid the darkness, there were stars. Stars that still shone through the gloom.
“What should I do?”
Orphaned children wept in the night.
The hungry baked mud over dying campfires, soaked bark in muddy water. Among the gathered children was one they called “sister,” and another, “brother.”
Those two gave up their pitiful scraps of food to the younger ones without hesitation, though their own bellies were empty.
The littlest ones, unable even to speak, did not thank them—they simply devoured the mud, the bark, the filthy water—and then smiled, wiping their dirty mouths.
The older boy and girl clutched their stomachs and smiled back, hiding their hunger.
“I do not know what to do.”
The era of war.
Once again, swords, spears, and shields drenched this peaceful land in blood. And yet—even in the darkness, stars still shone. Even in a world tainted by shadow, there was light.
The stars had not vanished.
“I do not know how to guide those poor, lost souls.”
Humans were still beautiful.
Still lovable.
Still radiant.
“So please—tell me.”
I could not turn away from them.
I could not allow the light to fade.
“Tell me how to bring light to this world.”
Before me stood a young boy in royal robes—one who resembled me.
“Tell me... how to become the light.”
And so I answered him. And the world grew a little brighter.
The wandering souls smiled a little more.
Thus, I remained for hundreds of years.
***
I spat blood from my mouth. Across from me stood the Beastkin, still wary.
He looked terrible—but so did I.
‘Should’ve ended it with that last strike.’
Manipulating my breath to exploit 「The Light」’s mystery had worked—brilliantly, even.
Burning a single handful of Mana was fine; I could replenish it with the next breath.
Though I became momentarily defenseless after each use, it didn’t last long—barely an instant of darkness before my vision cleared again.
The weakness after using 「The Light」 was fleeting—and a single deep breath restored what was lost.
The real problem wasn’t that moment of helplessness.
‘…How many more times can I use it?’
Thanks to that breathing trick, I’d avoided the fate of dying after a single swing. But the backlash wasn’t gone. To burn away every drop of Mana was, from the start, an absurd act.
The 「Mana Heart」 and the veins of 「Paths」 running through my body were like real organs—and each time I overused them, the damage accumulated.
Every time I invoked 「The Light」, my Mana Heart endured the impact of being shattered.
My inner 「Paths」, too, endured the agony of being ripped apart like veins bursting under pressure.
To burn all of one’s Mana was no different from burning all the blood in one’s body.
That “single handful of breath” was merely the limit of what I could endure—not a safeguard against harm.
My master once said the same. If not for my steel-forged heart and hardened paths, my body would’ve exploded long ago.
He said this power was far beyond what a mere 「Sword Walker」 should bear.
‘Four times at most. Maybe three.’
Still, there was one comfort—「The Light」 wasn’t my only weapon. I had more. But so did the Beastkin.
“-!”
Missing one leg didn’t slow him down. He charged even harder, faster than before.
I bit my lip and barely blocked the strike. Blood splattered across my sight—his blood, spraying from the severed stump.
「Beasts fight by pouring out everything they have. Unlike those Monks you’ve fought before.」
“……”
「Monks rely on their bodies and their recovery. But Beastkin… they’re beasts in truth.」
My vision narrowed. I closed my eyes and relied on instinct.
The domain of the 「Sword Walker」—to combine all sensory information and see the 「Paths」.
I followed one such path and swung my sword. But the blade never reached him.
The instant the tip brushed his skin, he twisted away midair—instinctively, through the 「Path of Blood」. Not reaction, but premonition—faster than thought.
He escaped the strike, taking only a shallow cut.
Then—boom!—a blow slammed into my armor, shaking my entire body. Nausea surged; my balance faltered. Another shock followed, then another—like lightning crashing through my skull.
「Careful.」
I nearly blacked out. Barely regaining my footing, I inhaled deeply.
My steel heart throbbed, restoring clarity.
「It’s an attack that disrupts your Qi.」
“My Qi?”
「Simply put—it doesn’t damage the flesh, but the Mana flowing within you. Even your steel heart can only endure a few more of those. When it fails, you’ll explode from the inside.」
“……”
「Monks have a training technique, you know—smashing watermelons with their hands.」
Hard to believe such speed and power from a crippled foe. Even bleeding that much, he didn’t falter.
I couldn’t even see his face—his helmet hid it completely.
「The true martial artist must shatter the inside without cracking the rind.」
“…Hah.”
「Which means, right now, your body’s like one of those melons—fine on the outside, pulp on the inside.」
Shit.
An unpleasant metaphor. But accurate—I could feel it. The 「Paths」 in my body were tangled and torn. Another hit and I’d burst like rotten fruit.
“-!”
The Beastkin lunged again.
I stomped down on a fallen Winter Steel longsword.
It spun up into my grip.I thrust—and again, he evaded, guided by instinct.
“You bastard—”
But this time, I was ready.
Doubt.
That eternal question—how do I kill this beast? Through endless suspicion, I had found the answer. The 「Path of Blood」 was formidable, but not flawless.
‘It senses danger—but can’t distinguish between real and fake.’
A fatal weakness. If it can’t tell the difference—
“...!”
I dropped my sword mid-thrust, rolled forward, and kicked out with my boot’s heel. My martial arts were crude, but it didn’t matter. To the Beastkin, even that was “danger.” And a beast always fled from danger.
‘Got you.’
As I expected, he flinched back. My heel struck the floor with a crack. In that same moment, I drew a dagger from my thigh and hurled it. Another threat. Another false signal.
‘They never trade flesh for gain.’
Beastkin lacked the concept of sacrifice. And, crucially, they couldn’t sense the steel in my veins.
‘If he’d foreseen me using 「The Light」, he would’ve reacted instantly—but he didn’t. Not then.’
All those small clues led me to the truth. Endless suspicion had given me the answer to how I’d win.
Clang! Sparks burst as our weapons clashed again—but this time, the outcome was mine.
“Haa—”
The Beastkin couldn’t read bluffs. Now that his weakness was exposed, he tried mixing deception into his own attacks, sometimes even letting my blade graze him deliberately.
But in that kind of fight, he couldn’t win. Even the smallest anomaly, any shift in rhythm—my doubt caught it instantly.
Soon, the room was soaked in his blood. Armor shattered, black fur bristling through the gaps.
The tide had turned.
No matter how resilient his kind, that much blood loss was fatal.
I leveled my blade calmly, no need to rush.
Then—
“…Huh.”
Sensing defeat, the Beastkin leapt out the window without hesitation—and ran for his life, never once looking back.
“……”
Left alone, I stared after his retreating figure.
Victory, yes—but somehow, it didn’t feel like one.
‘That was… unsatisfying.’
Standing there awkwardly, I heard Liam’s voice.
「Didn’t I tell you? Beasts are bastards.」
Now I understood what he’d meant.
「So… will you chase him?」
I shook my head.
“You think I’m insane?”
Going out there in this state would be suicide. Better to rest—recover what strength I could.
「Wise choice.」
Liam nodded approvingly.
「Besides, that beast… someone else will deal with him.」
“Someone else?”
「The kind who never lets his prey escape.」
For some reason, Liam was staring out the window.
「A sword far more dangerous than that cowardly beast.」
Gazing—intently.
***
The Beastkin sprinted through the night, lungs burning, glancing back again and again.
That strange fighter from before—? Thankfully, not pursuing.
‘That was close.’
His heart still pounded. The 「Path of Blood」, that sense which smelled weakness and strength, that warned of danger—it had betrayed him.
At first, the man had smelled sweet, like prey—easy meat. That was why he had attacked.
But the scent had changed. Every time the man swung his sword, the sweetness rotted into stench—the reek of a predator.
The more they fought, the fouler it became. Until, in the end, the Beastkin had smelled death itself. And lost his will to fight.
So he fled. Among beasts, that wasn’t shameful. In the wild, retreat was survival. In nature, the last one standing was the victor. So he ran—hard and fast.
‘A prey whose scent changes mid-fight? Never heard of that. What kind of monster…’
A sword demon. That was the only name that came to mind.
He had heard the term before—Sword Demon, whispered by humans of the Steel City.
He paused. Something smelled wrong.
“...?”
A foul, stomach-turning stench. He looked up. Blood splattered across the ground like rain. Torn corpses piled into a mountain.
“Uh…”
Atop that mountain sat a black warrior, head nodding drowsily—as if bored.
“……”
The moment he saw the figure, the Beastkin froze.
The warrior slowly raised his head.
Their eyes met—and the Beastkin smelled something he had never known before.
A stench beyond fear.
“Why… do you keep coming to me…”
A predator? No. Something far beyond that.
“I’m so tired…”
The smell of an apex being—a lifeform that stood atop the pyramid of existence, a creature with no natural enemies.
“Yaaawn…”
The ultimate predator.
The instant that thought crossed his mind, the Beastkin’s body moved on its own—turning, scrambling, fleeing as fast as he could.
But—
“Where are you going?”
Prey could never flee before the apex predator.
“Tell me… where were you running from?”
Never.