WeTried Translations

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◈ I Became the Dark Knight in the Game World ◈

Chapter 13: In the Abyss, Swords Wield People (1)

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Normally, Servants of the Abyss rarely clashed head-on, even when they served different Demons. The Material Realm was such an enormous pie that there was always more than enough to go around.

Of course, that alone was not enough to prevent conflict between Abysses. Having ample prey without fighting was one reason. The other was the ruin that conflict would bring.

One force capable of completely expelling the Abyss from the Material Realm was the Abyss itself. Attacking a Servant of the Abyss from another Abyss also carried the risk of being erased from the Material Realm.

And Kriel was an exception to all of that.

He served no Demon and had no interest in corrupting the Material Realm, but he was very interested in beating down Servants of the Abyss.

Satranak got no reaction even after invoking the name of the Demon he served. The same happened when he offered the Seeds of Corruption he had gathered so far.

‘Where the hell did that monster come from?!’

Every desire a Servant of the Abyss should naturally possess seemed meaningless to that thing.

The knight's steady advance in utter silence was oppressive. Satranak desperately searched for a way out.

‘Illusion magic has no effect. A more direct attack spell? Didn't he cut apart a fireball cast without an incantation using nothing but a sword?’

If Satranak gave up the speed of wordless magic and properly chanted a spell, the knight's attack would reach him first. He had to keep attacking, if only to buy time.

Satranak's eyes frantically swept the depths of the Abyssal Domain. A sword that was now taking on a complete form came into view.

‘If magic won't work!’

Satranak cast several attack spells again. They were not meant to wound Kriel, only to blind and confuse him for a moment.

Leaving behind flashing crimson lightning and a thunderous blast that scattered ash, Satranak dashed forward.

With the sixth sense granted to a Demonkin, he sensed Kriel's movements. The bastard seemed unaware of what Satranak was after and mechanically destroyed the spells as before.

At last, Satranak grasped the sword's hilt. The blade, once so gaunt it resembled the spine of a dried skeleton, had regained its full form.

The blade slipped soundlessly from the heart. The corpse, already a mummy, lost the last of its vitality the instant the weapon was pulled free and crumbled into a heap of ash.

Satranak felt power swelling within him. One of the Seven Demon Weapons, painstakingly charged, should have been able to produce hundreds of Seeds of Corruption.

He had not wanted to spend that boundless potential on a single fight.

Whoosh─.

The knight swung his greatsword. Every flash and illusion scattered away, leaving only the knight and Satranak. The sharp tip of the greatsword pointed at Satranak once more.

If he tried to preserve his power now, his neck would soon bid farewell to his body.

Satranak muttered as though venting his frustration.

"What a waste."

The knight did not stop.

"Because of a madman like you, the Archdemon's great plan has been twisted. I'll feed your flesh to this sword and temper it with your blood!"

An icy blue light flashed from the sword Satranak raised. It carried a primordial cold like the northern snowfields, perhaps even harsher.

That cold light settled over Satranak's body.

* * *

"Uh."

I could not help being bewildered. That first charge had told me enough.

That Demonkin was better suited for schemes than proper combat. If he faced me head-on, he would die ninety-nine times out of a hundred. The remaining one would only barely manage to escape.

That was why I had chosen to conserve Blood Energy by minimizing my movements. The more fiercely and actively I moved, the more Blood Energy I used. Naturally, the side effects would also grow stronger and last longer.

There was nowhere to run in the depths of the Abyssal Domain anyway, so I had planned to wait until he exhausted his dark mana, then slowly take his head.

Then that bastard suddenly ran off to a corner, pulled out a sword, and was enveloped in an ominous light.

Then he died.

"What the..."

There was no other way to describe the sight except as absurd.

When that blue light wrapped around the Demonkin's body, he let out something like, "Oh... Ooh...!" and tried to attack.

He failed.

Starting with the hand holding the sword, his whole body began to freeze. He tried to stop the ice from spreading with magic, then eventually went so far as to set himself on fire.

Perhaps that desperate effort worked, because the ice stopped spreading. That did not mean his suffering was over. Beneath the transparent ice encasing both hands, his arms gradually withered away.

"N-no! This can't be!"

After shouting that same tired line, the Demonkin finally became a shriveled mummy. Even his twitching body spasmed three or four times before falling still.

It was so ridiculous that I waited for a while, wondering if he was faking his death to launch a surprise attack.

But the Demonkin never rose again.

[What was that? Is he an idiot?]

Even Orisin seemed dumbfounded by such an absurd death.

[That bastard has been using the Seven Demon Weapons this whole time, breaking them as he used them. Did he still expect one to recognize him as its master? He sure fought well for someone who had barely used a sword properly.]

"Harsh."

[I never had good feelings toward the Abyss. Especially now that the Abyss has spiritually beheaded me!]

Orisin poured out their resentment toward the Abyss. The Abyss had never done this world any good, so it could stand to take some abuse.

"But how am I supposed to move that..."

The Demonkin had gripped it wrong and ascended straight to the heavens. Since I was also connected to the Abyss, there was no guarantee I would not pick it up, roll around on the ground, and scream, "Aaargh! Save me, Morgina!"

[If you want to play it safe, why not wait for that Violent Saint? It's still an item of the Abyss. If she pours a bucketful of Divine Power over it, it probably won't be able to move.]

"I guess that's the only way. Since this happened, I'll head down the other path and help destroy the Core."

The moment I turned my back, I heard cloth scrape against the ground.

I immediately looked back.

The Demonkin's body rose.

[That's not a Demonkin.]

All life had been sucked from its body. Its skin had shrunk tight against its bones. Even the slightest movement came with an unpleasant creak.

The greatest difference from before was its eyes. A blue radiance, identical to the cold glow spilling from the sword, streamed from the Demonkin's eyes.

[Crazy. Did the sword eat the Demonkin?]

The right hand gripping the sword kept creaking. Every joint from its fingertips to its shoulder pulsed like waves.

It was strange, but the sight reminded me of an instrument being tuned before a proper performance.

When I saw that grotesque sight, I charged straight at the Demonkin.

I had always been the kind of person who would rather land one more hit on a boss than watch its entrance cutscene!

The Demonkin corpse's creaking tuning still had not stopped. I raised my greatsword over my head.

* * *

The Dark Knight dashed forward, leaving a crimson trail behind him. His acceleration was so sudden that even Orisin, now a Spirit, lost sight of Kriel for an instant.

The crimson trail Kriel created had somehow risen above his head. Vivid Blood Energy clung to the blade. Raised all the way to the ceiling, the greatsword fell toward the Demonkin again.

At the moment of attack, the condensed Blood Energy around the blade left an afterimage like a crimson pillar as it plummeted.

The charging greatsword seemed intent on cutting the Demonkin's entire body in two, not merely beheading it.

Clang!

The greatsword never even touched the Demonkin's skin. The Demonkin's body, or rather its corpse, moved its right hand and swung the sword.

Kriel marveled at that swift movement. It had not simply blocked his attack.

Kriel's strike came from above, in other words, vertically. Normally, one would counter such an attack by applying force horizontally to knock its path aside.

But Kriel was confident that no ordinary force could shake his sword, and even if its path changed, he could adapt.

The Demonkin corpse's response was different.

It stepped back with practiced footwork. At that moment, Kriel tried to close in and continue his attack. The Demonkin corpse moved first.

Its right hand rose toward the sky. A vertical slash just like Kriel's. Unlike Kriel, though, the corpse's sword targeted not its enemy's body, but the weapon.

A downward slash struck the edge of the descending greatsword. Kriel's immense strength combined with the corpse's grotesque power, driving the greatsword into the floor of the Abyssal Domain and burying it deep.

The Demonkin's left hand moved at once. It formed a hand seal used in Black Magic. The floor of the Abyssal Domain contracted and clamped around Kriel's greatsword as if biting it.

‘It'll be hard to pull it out right away.’

Just like when he fought that horse-head Spirit last time, Kriel could not seem to use his greatsword properly.

[Agh, damn it. Be gentle with me.]

Kriel drew his Horn Dagger.

Footnotes:

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