Chapter 190: Sword Demon (4)
Beggar Old Man.
What a funny title.
Despite over two years of connection since arriving in Marzen, Harang knew nothing of his na, true identity, or background.
But that wasn’t important now.
Harang stared at him with wide-eyed shock.
‘Incredible aura…!’
Gone was the usual sloppy deanor.
Appearing like a bolt of lightning, he overwheld both Harang and Nigel Nunez with his presence alone.
It wasn’t forced.
His natural presence dominated the area completely.
‘When did he start following us? And why now?’
To protect him?
Or because he knew Nigel Nunez?
It seed possible.
From the mont the Beggar Old Man appeared, the Head’s attention was entirely on him.
“You…”
“Haha, long ti no see.”
Nigel Nunez glared at the Beggar Old Man, spitting out his words.
The atmosphere was intense.
A chilling, sharp aura, unlike when facing Harang, spread everywhere, frosting the ground.
But it couldn’t invade the Beggar Old Man’s domain.
Crackle, crackle!
Sssss-
Sothing vaporized with yellow sparks within a 1.5-ter radius of him.
Nigel Nunez, his pride wounded, didn’t press further, knowing it was futile.
“What’s this? Why are you here, Sword Demon?”
“Ahem…”
The low-voiced title ‘Sword Demon.’
And the Beggar Old Man’s lack of denial despite such a grandiose moniker.
Harang’s face flashed with surprise.
He knew what the Sword Demon was.
‘One of the south’s two great calamities!’
The first was, of course, Red Magician Greg Pellegrino.
His indiscriminate terrorism and power surpassing most Sword Masters made him a natural disaster.
Even the Holy Kingdom, across the continent, was desperate to eliminate him, showing his might.
But the second calamity, the Sword Demon, was no less renowned.
Unlike other great swordsn, he had no affiliation.
No one knew his birthplace or activities.
Appearing out of nowhere ten years ago, he surfaced rarely.
But each ‘rare appearance’ was earth-shattering.
He single-handedly stopped a coup by Caman Kingdom’s Sword Duke Raul Herrera.
He played a decisive role in ending Diano Kingdom’s civil war.
Among other monuntal incidents, the most recent was his overwhelming performance in a duel with Nigel Nunez, the south’s strongest swordsman.
As a result, the Seton Swordsmanship Hall had to scale back its expansion plans, and Nigel Nunez, suffering a humiliating defeat, entered five years of secluded training.
It was a mont that cracked his reputation as unmatched in the south, save for the Red Magician.
And yet…
‘That great figure was the Beggar Old Man?’
Harang, montarily dazed, nodded.
It made sense.
Though he spent most days as a silly old man, the occasional sharpness he showed was remarkable.
Especially when secretly watching the duel between Philip Portville and Ransel Grantz.
‘It felt like facing the village’s general manager, an imnse wall.’
Recalling the past, Harang looked at the Beggar Old Man—no, the Sword Demon—again.
Appearing more formidable than ever before him and the Head, he spoke.
“Nigel.”
“…What.”
“Stop sweet-talking the young man and go your own way.”
“Sweet-talking? What do you an…!”
“Your words sound like you’re devoting yourself to Harang’s cause, but it’s not true, is it? It’s just to satisfy your own greed.”
“No! It’s for the future of a wandering talent and the Seton Swordsmanship Hall…”
“Sa thing. You see the swordsmanship hall as yours alone, not everyone’s.”
“….”
“Deny it.”
“It’s not true!”
“Knew you’d say that. You’re shaless. Whether you were always like that or beca so as a leader, I don’t know, but it’s not a good look.”
The Sword Demon hurled biting remarks with an annoyed expression.
Nigel Nunez’s face grew increasingly grim.
It was understandable.
He’d expanded his influence across the south with great montum.
Even the Sword Duke and other Sword Masters bowed before him, and he took their deference for granted.
Only the Sword Demon stood in his way.
Blocking his path, overpowering him with swordsmanship, and now standing before him with a carefree deanor.
Grinding his teeth, Nigel Nunez drew a more radiant Color Sword and shouted.
“Get lost! I’m not the man I was!”
Hummmm-!
A trendous killing intent erupted with his roar.
The ground cracked with a snap, snap as if an earthquake struck.
The atmosphere turned icy, like the northern snowfields.
‘…Stronger than Heitz!’
Harang swallowed hard.
He’d vaguely sensed the Head’s level surpassed most Masters.
Resisting the Blue Sword’s aura would take a hundred, a thousand lives.
Even though the killing intent wasn’t aid at him, his skin prickled, as if blades brushed past instead of wind.
“Hm, I knew you’d react like that.”
But the Sword Demon remained calm.
As relaxed as facing an autumn breeze.
Nigel Nunez, enraged, raised his aura further, but the old man’s deanor didn’t change.
Furious, the Head swung his massive Blue Sword with a loud cry.
“Die!”
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh!
A storm of sword energy poured forth.
A terrifying, frigid attack, as if cascading from a northern mountain peak.
The wind alone could crush everything, amplified by dozens, hundreds of blue Aura projectiles.
“….”
The Sword Demon was silent.
Amid the chaotic world, he stood like a still-life vase, calm and serene.
Harang’s jaw dropped, wanting to shout a warning, but no sound ca.
It didn’t matter.
No warning was needed.
Just before the tempest hit.
The old man’s sword slowly moved, taking a middle stance.
A pitiful, rusty iron rod, seemingly destined to be swept away by the storm.
But the mont his eyes widened.
A blinding yellow aura erupted from the blade.
The situation reversed 180 degrees.
Crackle-crackle-crackle!
Lightning burst forth.
A vivid, intense energy, visible even in broad daylight, wove through the world.
Denser than a spider’s web, it obliterated everything.
The tempest.
The Aura projectiles.
Even Nigel Nunez’s lingering anger and inferiority.
All ground to dust and burned away.
Crackle-crackle-crackle!
Nigel Nunez’s hellish assault was nullified, while the Sword Demon remained serene.
The Head’s heavy breathing revealed he’d overexerted himself.
“Huff, huff, you…!”
“Still a foul mouth. Doesn’t matter what you call .”
“You…!”
“But know this. Your pride, honor, and self-esteem—the foundation of your swordsmanship hall—if you keep making flawed decisions, you won’t grow stronger. You’ll weaken, maybe even be surpassed by the Sword Duke.”
“What nonsense!”
“It’s true. He reflected on his past mistakes and redesigned his life, but you’re still walking the wrong path.”
Shaking his head, the old man spoke again.
“Don’t just focus on expanding the swordsmanship hall’s influence. Instead of holding festivals, think and strive for the continent’s peace. You know that’s why you first picked up a sword.”
“You know nothing…”
“Enough. I don’t want to talk further, so let’s settle this. Fight again, or leave quietly when I let you. I won’t ask twice.”
His expression hardened, shedding the carefree smile, proving his words true.
Nigel Nunez opened his mouth to retort but said nothing.
Grind
The sound of grinding teeth echoed clearly.
With a frosty chill, the Head left.
“Well, now we can talk.”
The Beggar Old Man—no, the Sword Demon—smiled brightly at Harang, as if no conflict had occurred.
Harang stared at him with a stern expression.
He wanted to know.
No, he needed to know.
He didn’t believe the Sword Demon ca here just to call himself that.
There was sothing more important, and now was the ti to learn it.
“Sir.”
“Got a question?”
“What’s your connection to the village? Still unsure?”
“No, I’ve decided.”
Unlike his clash with Nigel Nunez, the old man’s face was filled with fear.
But there was no hesitation.
Nodding, he revealed his identity in a low voice.
“I’m your senior.”
“….”
“A forr Godok who graduated from the village… forty years ago.”
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