Chapter 96

─ The people of the Shadow Court will protect the Guild Master.

With those words, Dale vanished.

Left alone, the Guild Master of Kalimala trembled before the impending bloodshed.

Guild City. The golden empire composed of the Seven Great Guilds and the Shadow Court.

And the struggle among the powerful over the ledgers of the City Master, the very heart of Guild City.

Faced with their overwhelming power, the guild master of Kalimala realized for the first time the fleeting nature of gold.

At that moment, Dale was at the Shadow Court’s hideout.

The Shadow High Court. In that place reminiscent of an underground chapel, facing the continent’s foremost assassin.

“Kuh, Shippul. This beer tastes killer.”

Salgeom, Master Baro, was gulping down beer. He cared not a whit for the Shadow Court’s formalities or etiquette, his legs sprawled across the table.

“…From the looks of it, your faith in the Shadow Church doesn’t seem particularly deep.”

Dale, too, lowered his voice without bothering with formalities.

“Heh heh, you call that faith?”

Master Baro chuckled and nodded.

“There aren’t many places that’d take a bastard like me who stabbed his lord in the back and ran off.”

“Why did you stab him in the back?”

Betraying one’s lord is the ultimate taboo, unforgivable for a knight.

“Well, I guess my head just went blank.”

Master Baro answered as if it were someone else’s business.

“My lord was raving mad, claiming a demon possessed his young daughter.”

“……”

“And he ordered me to behead his daughter.”

He said it flatly.

“So while I hesitated──.”

After downing the rest of his beer, Master Baro spoke.

“That mad lord, he gouged out his own daughter’s eyes with his bare hands.”

“Surely not…”

“That’s exactly what happened.”

Dale gasped.

“That daughter is the saint standing before you, utterly distraught.”

“……”

“He took that child and fled to Guild City, and the religious zealots of the Shadow Court made a huge fuss, shouting ‘The Saint has appeared!’ It was a complete mess.”

“There’s no doubt some form of ‘divine revelation’ descended upon her.”

“Yeah, sister goddess or whatever.”

At Dale’s words, Master Baro sneered coldly.

“Let’s say there are some seriously awesome beings up there in the clouds watching us down below.”

“……”

“Do you think those incredibly awesome beings might have even a shred of love for us?”

“Probably not.”

“Huh.”

Master Baro swallowed, looking surprised.

“So, for that child’s sake, you volunteered to become the Sword of the Shadow Court without faith?”

“Leaving him among these fanatical bastards would be downright unsettling.”

“That child has already become an irreversible puppet of the gods.”

“A child who lost an eye at his father’s hand—it would be stranger if he didn’t seek vengeance.”

Master Baro muttered, feigning indifference.

“I have no intention of judging that child’s faith.”

Dale absentmindedly recalled the shadow saintess’s figure, directed toward himself and Shuv.

“I’m content just to stand by that child’s side.”

Without faith or anything else, becoming the sword of the Shadow Court guarding the Saint’s side. At that situation, Dale smiled bitterly.

“Looks like we might actually get somewhere.”

“Heh heh, this youngster’s tongue is as smooth as flowing water.”

Master Baro finished his beer with a satisfied smile.

“So, why did you volunteer to become the god of these religious fanatics?”

“Because I needed the Sword of the Shadow Court.”

Dale answered without a moment’s hesitation.

“The assassin known as the Seven Swords of the Continent, the Star of the Killing Sword.”

The significance of that existence was beyond words.

“Was that all?”

“That was all.”

At Dale’s answer, Master Baro burst out laughing as if he couldn’t contain himself.

“At least there’s no doubt you’ll be the Messiah for these morons.”

Before the Black Market opened, the Fight Club’s ‘Winner’s Tournament’ drew near.

A battlefield where those representing the continent’s foremost noble houses began gathering, each concealing their own greed and ambition.

The Saxon family’s ‘Black Prince’ was no exception.

Fight Club.

Dale was right there in that very underground arena. Behind him stood the Death Knight he had acquired right here. From that sight, only one identity could come to mind for those who saw him.

“The ‘Black Prince’ of the House of Saxony has arrived!”

“A colossus beyond imagination has appeared right from the first match!”

A realm of no rules, where one can give their all to defeat opponents, excluding the world of ideology and avatars. And those who will now face Dale are certainly no pushovers either.

Powerhouses of a different caliber than any Pyramid has seen before. Proxies participating in the Black Market on behalf of the empire’s foremost noble houses.

As the arena for a power struggle to establish their hierarchy, the opponent before Dale revealed himself.

He was a knight clad in pure white armor. And discerning the nature of that armor was not particularly difficult.

“Look at that armor!”

“Pure white armor forged from mithril… It must belong to the Knights of Saint Magdalena!”

The existence of the ‘Mithril Mine’ in the County of Brandenburg was no exaggeration to say it had made the current count’s house what it was.

By now, the pure white armor forged from mithril had become synonymous with the symbol of the ‘Knights of Saint Magdalena’.

The proxy of the Holy Sword.

“What business could His Highness the Grand Duke of Brandenburg possibly have in this gloomy market of heretics?”

Truly, there is no rival on that one-legged tree.

“You…”

At Dale’s sneer, pure white aura gathered along the tip of the Knight of Saint Magdalena’s sword. He was a knight who dared to call himself the proxy of the Holy Sword Knight himself. Even the Aura Knights who participated in the Black and White War couldn’t compare to such a formidable opponent.

At the very least, an aura master—a power beyond that.

Yet, under Fight Club’s rules, avatars cannot be used. Just as Dale is bound by the constraint that he cannot unfold the world of his thoughts.

When powerful beings wielding avatars or the realm of thought clash with all their might, the bloodshed is no trivial matter.

“In the Black-White Rotation, I remember the souls of the knights who died by your hand.”

The Knight of Saint Magdalene spoke, her voice thick with hatred that could never be forgotten.

“Ah, you should speak plainly.”

“What?”

At those words, Dale muttered as if it were someone else’s affair.

“It wasn’t me. You should say Prince Philip killed them.”

The scoundrel of the count’s house.

“It takes more than ordinary talent to make knights look like fools like that.”

At the very least, his track record justified calling him a genius of defeat without exaggeration.

“Compared to the 50% of the Imperial Army that was wiped out on the island of Britannia, even that would be a mere drop in the bucket.”

“How dare you…!”

At Dale’s provocation, the sword of the Knight of Saint Magdalene flashed with murderous intent. The Death Knight under Dale’s command also re-gripped the Saxon family’s black sword.

‘Which one should I project the Peacemaker onto?’

After the standoff, Dale thought coldly.

Focusing all his power on the Death Knight wasn’t a bad idea. But his opponent would likely try to kill him for real, and he couldn’t entrust everything to his escort.

This is different from the time when Master Baro sought only to test himself.

Swoosh.

That is why Dale drew the knight’s sword from his waist.

“Defeated in the Black-White Rotation, defeated on the island of Britannia too…”

Projecting the ideology of the Peacemaker along the blade’s edge, Dale spoke.

“I’ll lose here too.”

No further conversation ensued.

“Somehow, every time I see your place, it looks like it’s been wrecked.”

Thwack!

Even without using an Avatar, as a Knight who had reached the realm of an Aura Master, the Knight of St. Magdalena charged with all her might.

It was fast. For Dale in his third circle days, he wouldn’t have dared to counter that movement; it wouldn’t have been strange if his head had been severed in one blow.

But the Dale of today was different.

He was no mere mage, but a knight wielding the Peacemaker, imbued with the fragment of a hero, and a fourth-circle mage hailed as the empire’s greatest talent.

Having fused the two and reached a realm of rapid, daily improvement, the Death Knight guarding Dale’s back charged forward.

Saxon’s Black Sword parried the holy knight’s strike, and Dale wasn’t watching it either.

He re-gripped the Peacemaker, his shadow cloak fluttering as he charged forward.

The sword pursued by the warrior.

In a sense, it was not vastly different from that of Master Baro, the ‘Sword of Slaughter’. An assassin’s blade, ruthlessly and thoroughly designed to take human life.

The path to slaughter.

The black sword of the Knight of Saint Magdalene clashed with the Death Knight’s blade. As the interlocking black and white light flared, Dale plunged into the knight’s embrace, thrusting the Peacemaker deep.

Clang!

Without flinching, the Knight parried the Death Knight’s blade and simultaneously deflected Dale’s swinging sword.

“……!”

The counterattack followed instantly.

Strong. Yet what Dale possessed now was never merely a sword. As he parried and charged toward the charging Knight of Saint Magdalene, his shadow cloak fluttered. From beneath his feet, shadow bullets bearing the inscription “Gatling-style” were fired.

A hail of bullets made of darkness rained down, and before it, the knight of Saint Magdalena swung his sword.

Following the sword’s strike, the aura surging within his body piled up into the form of a ‘shield’.

A protective aura.

A kind of aura shield, similar to that of a mage, and it was precisely that shield that was deflecting Dale’s shadow bullets.

‘The intensity of the aura is extraordinary.’

If one were to compare an Aura Master’s knight to a mage’s realm, they would be no less than a master of at least the sixth circle.

The Tower Elder.

However, having the same circle rank does not mean their combat prowess is equal. Knights are not scholars.

They are not those who shut themselves away in the tower, reading books and devoting themselves to practice. They are those who stake their lives, cutting down enemies on the battlefield and surviving as their profession.

And the pinnacle of the sword, the realm of the Avatar—that is attained precisely through such repeated slaughter, building one’s mastery layer by layer.

Therefore, even without using an avatar, the knight standing before him was an opponent against whom even the current Dale couldn’t guarantee a 100% chance of victory.

That’s precisely why his heart raced even more.

Hunting immeasurably powerful foes, and the next realm he would attain. Each time he hunted a strong opponent, the memories of his past life, steadily embedded within the Peacemaker, would awaken.

After the clash, he created distance. Once he had created distance, Dale murmured.

“This is my domain.”

Following the shadows cast by his fluttering cloak, he submerged the entire area into a lake of darkness… The predators lurking within the shadows began to stir.

《Shadow Lurker》.

「Kiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii

Spiny tentacles erupted from the shadows. Simultaneously, several fully matured Shadow Lurkers revealed themselves.

Several-meter-long serpentine bodies, eight limbs formed from sickles. Spiked tentacles writhing along their backs.

Those very monsters blocked Dale’s path, volunteering as shields.

A dozen against one.

The power born of overwhelming numbers. This was the might of the Black Mage of the Black Tower, the Necromancer.

“……!”

Facing those monsters, the Knight of Saint Magdalene had only one decision. Ignoring all attacks, he charged forward.

A pinpoint breakthrough. The most reliable direct approach for a knight using a mage.

The fate of a mage who allows a knight to close the distance is too obvious to even mention.

Leaving Dale’s creations behind, the Knight of Saint Magdalene charged forward. The distance closed. But Dale was never ‘just a mage’.

A mage who loses simply because he gave ground to a knight could never survive facing the true powerhouses of this world.

KAAANG!

Sword met sword.

Dale’s sword blocked the blade of the Knight of Saint Magdalena. Without even an aura, a mere iron sword.

One strike.

But the Knight of Saint Magdalena did not give up.

It was well known that the eldest son of House Saxon possessed a genius-level talent with the sword, and blocking a single strike like this was well within expectations.

Clang! Clang!

But when that mere iron sword deflected his strikes several times against the pure white aura…

“How…!”

The Knight of Saint Magdalena could no longer contain his astonishment.

At the same time, the Shadow Lurkers he had tried so hard to ignore and turn his back on simultaneously thrust their thorny tentacles toward the Knight of Saint Magdalene.

Squish!

He raised his aura shield belatedly, avoiding instant death, but the aura shield was by no means an invincible defense.

Clang!

The shield shattered, and the Shadow Lurker’s tentacles pierced through. Dale, too, without hesitation, slammed into the ground.

The real reason the nobles’ representatives compete to join the Fight Club. The outcome of a Fight Club match doesn’t necessarily have to end in death.

A simple cry of surrender is enough.

However, the agents’ participation in the fight club was never about hearing their opponents utter the words “I give up.”

It was to eliminate competitors in the black market most definitively and legally by killing them outright.

That was the true meaning behind this fight club’s ‘winner’s match’, and Dale plunged his sword downward precisely to fulfill that meaning.

No, he tried to thrust it down.

Kwaaang!

Simultaneously, an inexplicable explosion occurred. From the body of the Knight of Saint Magdalene.

‘An explosion? No, that’s not it.’

It wasn’t an ordinary explosion. It was a shockwave caused by an absurd amount of aura swirling violently.

And that action meant only one thing.

“……!”

There was a knight clad in pure white. Not a trace of human form could be seen; he was literally a knight of pure white.

‘Avatar!’

The ultimate combat form pursued by the Knights of Saint Magdalene.

Considering the impact a knight who had reached the Avatar realm would bring, the damage it would inflict on this entire arena was beyond imagination.

Fight Club knew this fact too, and it wasn’t without countermeasures.

And to punish those who broke the Fight Club’s rules, the ‘high-ranking assassins of the Shadow Court’ led by Master Baro, who had been waiting in the wings, were about to move…

Before that, dark blue magic swirled violently at Dale’s feet, enveloping the entire arena.

Whoosh!

Dale and the Knight of Saint Magdalena vanished without a trace.

The world of the magician.

That day, into the otherworld of a white and dark winter night.