WETRIED TRANSLATIONS

Wizard of the Abyss

[Translator – Aren]

Chapter 213 - Blade (7)

Lake, near the lighthouse.

As the captain stood there, chain-smoking while watching the scene, a soldier hurried over in a small boat and saluted.

"Captain! Orders have come down from headquarters!”

"...What is it?”

"They said to assist the man currently fighting and eliminate the enemy!”

"...”

The captain let out a sigh at his subordinate’s words.

It was clear that headquarters had no idea what was actually happening here.

"Relay this message.”

"Y-yes! I’ll write it down!”

"Tell them this isn’t something we can interfere in.”

"...Pardon?"

Looking at the confused soldier, the captain glanced back.

There, something blurred and swaying clashed violently, producing ear-splitting metallic sounds.

"You can’t even tell who’s who, so how are we supposed to attack?”

-...Boom!

The moment he finished speaking, a massive splash erupted as if a giant boulder had been thrown into the lake.

The resulting waves rocked the boats. Soldiers stumbled helplessly, dropping their bows. The captain clenched his teeth and gave an order.

"Drop anchor! Surround the area so they can’t escape at least!”

It was the best decision he could make under these circumstances.

* * *

Aksha had killed children before.

Many actually. Most families had two or three children, and villages were full of such families.

Sometimes, he spared a few because the oil-soaked blood dirtied his dagger too much or if the payment felt insufficient as a silent protest.

Even counting those exceptions, he had killed tens of thousands.

Which made it all the more unbelievable to him that the sword of a child not even of age was now pressing against his throat.

-Clang!

"Tsk..."

When swordsmen reached a certain level, their exchanges didn’t exceed ten moves.

Beyond that one of their blades would inevitably reach the other’s throat.

At that level, even if it looked like an even match, each exchange brought them closer to killing each other. No matter how perfectly one defended, once a certain number of exchanges was exceeded, one of them would reach the other’s vital points.

Both knew this, so before the tenth exchange, the one who felt their neck would be cut retreated first.

But retreat came at a cost.

If it was close to the ninth exchange, the damage might be minimal, but—

"This is ridiculous.”

-Slash!

...Retreating while being completely overwhelmed.

Being forced to accept injuries severe enough to border on death.

Aksha roughly rubbed at his bleeding wrist, stopping the flow. Seeing the wound already healed without even a scar, Linmel frowned deeply.

"Stop that already! How many times have I sliced you? What are you, a snail?”

"Don’t get cocky. That’s not a wound you inflicted with your own skill.”

It was true.

If Aksha had wanted, those wounds would have ended as nothing more than minor scratches.

Even so, Linmel grinned confidently and readjusted her stance.

"Still, you’re the one who keeps running.”

"..."

He hadn’t avoided the injuries. He had clashed head-on with her several times.

That was the correct approach. He had no restrictions when it came to injuries. If he pushed harder, threw his body into the fight, and landed even a single fatal blow, it would be an unconditional victory.

This immortality, transcending individual skill, alone gave him an overwhelming advantage against swordsmen.

And yet, even with that advantage, he had never once reached the tenth strike.

Linmel’s blade always won by the slightest margin, turning each exchange into a killing blow aimed at the assassin’s vitals.

'It’s not just a coincidence…'

Gripping his dagger in reverse, Aksha carefully observed Linmel from all angles.

At first, the difference had been so slight that he had dismissed it as nothing more than absurd luck up to the third time and continued attacking.

But now, he could no longer deny this unbelievable fact.

Linmel—was perfectly perceiving and exploiting a gap thinner than a strand of hair.

A realm no ordinary person could ever reach, no matter if they poured tens of thousands, no, hundreds of millions of hours into training.

A talent that, by its mere existence, could send every Knight into a frenzy.

"...Dazzling."

Though he was an assassin, not a Knight, a pure exclamation of admiration slipped from his mouth.

For a moment, Aksha thought—what would've happened if he had met this girl one year, no, half a year later?

'If that had been the case, then when we met at the lighthouse…’

He would have been butchered beyond recognition, reduced to a corpse that could never be put together again.

The thought drew a hollow laugh from him.

Less than half a year. That was all it had taken to split their fates in two.

"How long do you think you can keep this up? At this rate you..."

"Do not curse the heavens. The fact that you were given such talent is proof that you were loved.”

Seizing the moment Linmel opened her mouth, Aksha lunged forward.

"...That won’t work!”

Linmel shouted confidently as she rushed in.

It wasn't a wrong judgment. They had crossed blades countless times, and not once had she lost.

However, there was one thing different this time.

-...Crunch!

"?!"

Aksha thrust out his left hand, which held the dagger—and severed it with his right arm.

Linmel frowned at the incomprehensible act of self-harm but reacted perfectly.

She knocked the flying left hand aside and charged straight for the main body. now left with only its right arm.

'No matter how well he can regenerate, if I split him cleanly down the middle—!’

In the brief gap before regeneration, she could carve him into thousands of pieces.

Linmel’s sharp eyes had already traced the path her blade would take. Just as she was about to shred the body that had only one arm left—

-Thud!

"?!"

"Children really do have a naive side.”

-Clang!

Linmel hastily twisted her body, deflecting the dagger that had stabbed toward the back of her neck.

The severed left hand, which had been cut from his body, moved with a will of its own, striking her from behind.

Fortunately, the dagger hadn’t dealt any meaningful damage. As Linmel stepped back cautiously, Aksha, who was now wearing a relaxed expression, picked up his arm and reattached it.

"Regenerating limbs is indeed thanks to that Fallen. But those bastards are so vicious they don’t grant much beyond that.”

"You…”

Only then did Linmel notice the faint seams running around the reattached left hand.

—Every time it had been cut off, there had been no wound. She had thought it was an ability close to immortality.

It had all been a deception.

"There’s no one who wouldn’t let their guard down after seeing a headless corpse. Every Rakshasa assassin has their own secret technique…”

Aksha casually demonstrated by cleanly slicing off his own head.

Blood spilled from the cross-section. Looking at it again, it felt strangely unnatural, as if the blood were being forced out.

"...You didn’t have a real body to begin with.”

"Hmm? No. It’s all my body. I just cut it apart and put it back together. Since it was separated from the start, whether it falls off or gets cut again in a different direction isn’t much of a problem.”

Placing his head back on, Aksha slowly twirled his dagger and smiled.

"It seems your master doesn’t know at what young an age Rakshasa assassins have their bodies modified.”

"—Your brain is the weak point.”

Linmel brushed off the taunt and nodded.

"Now that I think about it, you’ve been letting your neck get cut pretty easily, but you kept avoiding even the slightest injuries to your head. You attached the rest of your body parts around it, didn’t you?”

"Sharp. I tried not to make it obvious, yet you still noticed. I’ll give you that.

Aksha clapped in admiration.

Seeing him reveal his weakness so easily, Linmel felt great unease—

"Huh, ah…”

Suddenly, a dizzying pulse rang through her head, and she dropped to her knees.

Ripples spread across the lake, and her boots slowly began to sink beneath the surface.

A chill ran through her. Trembling, Linmel reached up and touched the back of her neck.

From the wound left by the dagger a thin line of blood was flowing.

'I thought I blocked it perfectly…’

"Underhanded, right? I know.”

Aksha shrugged as he slowly approached.

"But what can you do? If you wanted a fair fight, you shouldn’t have stepped into a place like this.”

"..."

"Your friend could’ve crushed me without effort. In the worst case, I was even planning to call those bastards…but you overestimated yourself. You’re causing trouble for him and for the heavens that gave you that talent. Well, not that I mind.”

"C-cough.."

Linmel gagged, the sensation rising from her stomach overwhelming her as she vomited into the lake.

The clear water was stained a dark crimson. As Linmel’s body gradually began to sink into the lake, Aksha approached to sever her head, then tilted his head at the sight of her expression.

"...You’re smiling?”

Linmel wiped the blood from her lips with the back of her hand and grinned with absolute confidence.

He had seen it many times. People on the verge of death letting out self-deprecating smiles or losing their sanity and bursting into manic laughter.

However, this was neither of those.

Linmel was simply smiling as if she were happy. Like someone spending time with her lover.

"What’s so funny?”

"You idiot. Jern already knew.”

"...?"

Using the blood-stained lake as a mirror, Linmel looked at her own reflection and smiled.

"Jern knows everything. He probably knew how strong you are and how weak I am. That’s why he tried to stop me.”

"Well then that makes it your fault.”

"Yeah. Still…he listened in the end.”

Linmel put strength into her legs.

Though submerged up to her knees, her feet found firm ground beneath the surface.

"He trusted me. He believed that I could hold out against you.”

"..."

In the midst of what should have been a perfect victory, Aksha felt uneasy.

That unease immediately turned into action. Without the slightest regard for dignity, his dagger shot straight for the back of Linmel’s neck.

Whether she dodged or blocked, it would pierce through regardless—

"Sorry. I can’t afford to lose.”

-Clang!

"...!"

Aksha felt a chill run down his spine as he saw Linmel standing tall, having knocked the dagger aside.

A poison capable of killing even a massive ancient dragon with a single drop had failed to kill a mere girl.

"Pointless!”

But it was already too late. That dagger strike had been thrown with the intent to pierce through even if it were blocked.

The poison had dulled Linmel’s reactions ever so slightly, and as a result, the dagger cleanly severed her steel sword.

"Kgh—!”

The force behind the blow sent her tumbling across the surface of the lake several times. As she came to a stop, she looked down at the weapon in her hand—or rather, the hand that had once been a full sword.

Aksha did not wait even a moment.

'Now, immediately!'

The correct decision would have been to wait.

This was nothing more than a final flicker of dying strength. Once the poison spread a little further, Linmel wouldn’t be able to move at all, no matter what she did.

But his intensely honed instincts of an assassin rang out a tremendous alarm.

One second.

No, even less than that, if he allowed even that much time—

The corpse sinking into the lake would not be her.

"Ugh...!"

Linmel threw away the hilt and reached for the emergency dagger at her waist.

But she was just a moment too slow.

Like spilled ink taking form, Aksha lunged forward in a shape too distorted to even make out. There wasn’t a single stray thought in his mind.

Linmel bit down on her lower lip.

She had no intention of giving up. But at the very least, she would have to be prepared to lose one arm.

"..?"

At that moment—

Something brushed against her hand as it searched through the lake.

It was something solid—for some reason, it carried the same chill as when she had held Jern’s hand.

There was no time to think.

-Slash!

"K-kugh…!?!”

With a sharp splash, the dagger fell into the water.

Linmel stared in shock at what she herself had just swung. An ice spear, gripped in her hand.

A long, perfectly balanced spear of ice. Something that should not have been able to form in this warm climate. Aksha, his face pale, reached out to grasp the spear that had pierced through his forehead.

"This..."

-Thud, thump.

Without even being touched, his body began to fall apart. Starting from below the neck, his limbs dropped one by one.

His trembling head soon went limp.

"Run..."

Leaving behind a final, fading word.

All that remained of the Rakshasa assassin were fragments of a corpse, drifting across the water.

After a moment, Linmel pulled Aksha’s head off the blood-stained ice spear. Then, she hugged the spear with a soft smile.

"You were watching, weren’t you?”

She wondered if he was still watching.

Now that it was over, probably not, right?

Sneaking a glance around, Linmel hesitated, then stuck out her tongue and touched it to the ice spear.

"A-ack....I-Ish shtuck…”

Not the best decision.

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