Chapter 171: Beatrice's Sword (2)
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This world, Artenia, felt like an onion.
"Layer after layer, sothing new keeps appearing. It’s endlessly fascinating."
Tap-tap-tap-tap.
While dashing rapidly through the forest, leaping between trees—
Carl twisted his lips as he watched the being chasing him at trendous speed.
‘In the Central Plains, there were wraiths and lingering spirits, but they didn’t possess any real power.’
Carl had accumulated countless experiences as an assassin.
He’d even taken requests not just to kill the living, but to kill the dead again.
He had co to understand that monsters, abominations, and things wearing human skin truly existed in the world.
In Artenia, where humans and all kinds of races were mixed together, such things might be common, but in the Central Plains, they were either unknown, forbidden, or entities to avoid entirely.
Of course, Carl had never failed to kill them either.
Had he failed, he wouldn’t have earned the title of the Greatest Assassin of the Central Plains.
Sssshhhk—!
A long sword strike sliced through a thick tree and struck the chasing smoke.
Then, a sword abruptly erged from the hazy black smoke and effortlessly neutralized the attack.
‘If that was just a casual move—’
Then the opponent was certainly no amateur who could be easily overwheld.
Carl imdiately halted his forward charge and instantly changed direction, rushing toward the entity.
Swish-swish-swish!
Heavenly Origin Sword Technique – Eighth Form: Thousand Peaks.
This technique split the strike of Heavenly Thunder into countless fragnts that fell upon the forest canopy.
Though it was too fast for the eye to follow, the opponent blocked all the attacks with little difficulty.
Tap.
Stopping before the figure, Carl slowly raised the Sword of Heavenly Thunder and spoke.
"With skill like that, you can’t be just another naless knight."
"Are you asking for my na?"
As the smoke parted, a man’s figure erged once more into the world.
Carl narrowed his eyes, sensing that the figure appeared slightly more solid than before.
‘Is he gradually regaining his strength?’
When they first t, he looked as pale as a corpse.
Now, although still pallid, his form had beco noticeably clearer.
Sssht!
Regardless, dragging this out would clearly be a mistake.
The mont the man opened his mouth, Carl surged forward with a surprise attack and swung his sword at close range.
Clang!
The two blades collided.
Carl let out a short breath, feeling as if he had struck a massive cliff.
"Lancelot. That was the na I was called back then."
"…Knight of the Lake?"
"You know of ? What a nostalgic na that is."
Carl squinted one eye.
King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table.
He had heard of them in legends from a small, weak city once known as the Principality of Britain, located on the outskirts of the Empire.
‘I thought it was just an old myth.’
It was sothing he had co across while studying the history of the Empire and the ancient heroes, regarded by academia as either a fictional legend or a theory derived from regional folklore.
If Carl hadn’t studied the relevant field, he wouldn’t have recalled it at all.
"That brings joy. I thought the legacy we built crumbled with Arthur’s death. To think it still remains even after thousands of years."
Lancelot smiled.
A pure smile so genuine, it could almost make one forget the murderous intent and madness he had shown earlier.
‘So Saint Beatrice and the Knights of the Round Table lived in the sa era?’
That part seed worth investigating once he returned.
It was the first ti Carl had heard of any connection between the two.
Clang!
Knocking Carl’s sword aside, Lancelot raised his own blade toward the sky.
"I do not know why, after thousands of years, I have returned to this land once more, but what I must do is clear."
Fwoooosh!
A vivid blue aura surged up his sword, casting a bright glow over the dark surroundings.
It was far too brilliant and pure to have been summoned by dark sorcerers, yet before long, ominous demonic energy began to mingle with it and gradually taint it.
"The glorious age has passed, and the fa of the Round Table has long been broken. I have no desire to raise that na again. People die, and nas fade. If the Round Table has moved into the shadows of history, then that too is fate. However…"
Lancelot raised his head to look into the empty air.
"I can feel it. The lineage that should have ended is still continuing."
Carl slowly followed his gaze, trying to discern where he was looking.
‘The Leipzig estate?’
Was he targeting his father, the Count?
It was said that the Leipzig Family also traced its origins back to a hero, so it wouldn’t be strange if they had so connection to the Round Table.
"The detestable blood of Ribera."
"……"
Ribera.
Carl suddenly realized sothing.
Lancelot wasn’t looking at the Leipzig estate—he was looking toward Polfoardel, the capital of the Empire.
More precisely, he must be gazing at the Imperial Palace where Emperor Brantley von Ribera resided.
"The Emperor?"
"Terrifying, truly terrifying. Even though the Round Table and Britain fought so desperately, Ribera’s power still endures."
"……"
Carl furrowed his brows.
The history of the Ribera Empire stretched just over a thousand years.
That did not match the era of Saint Beatrice or the Knights of the Round Table, who were linked to ancient heroes.
As if reading Carl’s thoughts, Lancelot gave a dry chuckle and spoke.
"Do you think Ribera was an empire from the beginning? They started as a small city nestled beside Britain. With the greed and cunning peculiar to that bloodline, they devoured neighboring forces and began to expand."
From a city to a kingdom.
From a kingdom to an empire.
That history hadn’t been built in a day, but stretched across millennia to reach the present.
"So."
Carl raised the Sword of Heavenly Thunder and pointed it at Lancelot.
"You’re claiming the power we now enjoy was originally theirs?"
"Surely not."
Lancelot shrugged his shoulders.
"We are not like certain others, filthy with envy or greed. We simply treasure what we have and give thanks even for the small things in daily life. The ones who burned such a Britain were…"
Ribera.
Carl roughly pieced together the situation.
‘In history, great powers are always the villains.’
To the Empire, the na Ribera was sacred, noble, and a source of pride.
But would the neighboring countries see it that way?
To expand territory, to steal talent, to plunder and rob resources—
How many unnecessary and aningless wars had they started under the guise of causes and justifications?
If Lancelot’s words were true, Britain must have been one of the lands swept up in that aftermath.
But Britain had the Round Table, and the legendary King of Knights, Arthur.
"I don’t quite see what that has to do with Saint Beatrice."
"It’s simple."
Shhk.
A light strike slashed through the air.
Carl raised his sword to block it, but still slid back along the ground.
"During the height of the war, the Middle Realm was invaded by the Demon Realm. Because of that, all nations on the continent stopped their wars and united their strength. They ford an allied army and continued the war to stop the Demon King’s forces."
But the real problem ca after the war ended.
Those who had slyly pushed other countries to the front preserved their strength, then violated the treaty that called for ten years of peace and focused recovery, turning their blades on weakened nations.
Ribera was no different.
"I won’t bother with petty details. That is why Ribera is evil. It must be eradicated."
"Hmm."
Carl twisted his lips.
"Then what about everyone else? The citizens of Ribera?"
"What cri could they have? All of it stems from that cursed bloodline."
"Even if they’re nobles of the Empire?"
"If they carry the blood of Ribera, they shall be judged. Even if they are saints or holy won."
"…That’s disappointing."
Carl gave a bitter smile and shook his head.
If Lancelot had been targeting only the Emperor—only the bloodline of the Ribera Empire—he might have let him go.
Even for him, going up against soone this powerful was a burdenso task.
But the problem was that the Leipzig Family also had Ribera blood.
One of their ancestors had married into royalty and founded a branch family.
That bloodline had likely been passed down faintly through the generations, even to Carl.
Which ant the Count of Leipzig, his father, and his other siblings could also be in danger.
"If you’re only going to kill the Emperor, maybe I’d let you pass. But if you’re going after the bloodline too, then I can’t let you go."
Anyway, there were knights far stronger than him near the Emperor.
So if he let Lancelot through, soone there would take care of him.
But Carl adjusted his grip on his sword and slowly began drawing up his strength.
Kwaang—!
Heavenly Origin Sword Technique – Second Form: Heavenly Thunder.
A bright yellow bolt of thunder exploded amid the forest dyed in the deep blue light radiating from Lancelot.
This ti, Lancelot slid back, leaving a deep mark on the ground.
"……"
Lancelot scanned his surroundings with deepened eyes and turned toward Carl.
"That’s an unusual sword technique. Was it created in this new era?"
"If I had to say… it’s probably from another world."
"Doesn’t matter either way."
Clack.
Lancelot once more raised his sword high.
At that mont, the surrounding smoke suddenly gathered around him and ford a thick suit of armor.
Armor that, at a glance, looked nearly impossible to penetrate.
"The blessing from the Lady of the Lake may be gone, but this remains my proud shield."
Tap-tap.
Lancelot tapped his chest with his hand, then lowered his stance as if ready to charge at any mont.
"Behold, this is the First Seat of the Round Table."
"…I’m looking forward to this."
Carl had fought beings like the Seven Wings or the Eight Wings, but he hadn’t expected to clash with a legendary Knight of the Round Table.
At the sa ti, he subtly gauged the presence behind him.
Ever since he left the territory and arrived here, NOX’s escort had been tailing him.
If they had noticed the space had been isolated, they must have tried sothing.
‘Hopefully, they sent a double.’
Escaping from here in a short ti seed unlikely.
Even a Black Label executive couldn’t break through this barrier, so it would’ve been better to send a double to fill his absence instead.
KWA-A-AANG—!
Lancelot kicked off the ground and charged with trendous force.
The pressure was like a knight galloping in full armor, lance in hand.
Dodging was pointless.
He had already arrived the mont Carl beca aware.
Heavenly Origin Sword Technique – First Form: Heavy Mirror.
Carl fluidly extended his sword.
A form that used the opponent’s strength to return it twofold.
The problem was that the opponent’s strength far exceeded his expectations.
Cra-ka-kang!
Sparks flew from the surface of the Sword of Heavenly Thunder as an unbearable screech rang out.
Carl’s form continued to be pushed back, and Lancelot pressed even more ferociously.
Fwaaash!
Suddenly, a vivid blue aura surged up from Carl’s sword.
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