The Imperial Supreme Commander Has Returned - Chapter 71

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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The Imperial Commander Has Returned | Chapter 71

Serent’s eyes widened at Delram’s words.
But he quickly masked his alarm and shot back a question.

“What in the world are you talking about all of a sudden?”
“Your face didn’t flinch—good discipline, I’ll grant you that. But your Swordsmanship is sloppy. The Ullem 12-Form’s hallmark is its weight, yet you’re all surface gravitas, hollow underneath. Your blade flutters like a leaf in the wind.”
“The Ullem 12-Form?”
“Especially the three forms in the middle—you’re barely mimicking the shape. Your wrists are that weak, and you’re swinging a blade that heavy? You should’ve spent time honing your Swordsmanship instead of just bragging about physical conditioning.”
“Huh?”

Serent, who had been feigning ignorance, finally let out a gasp of astonishment.
Being recognized for his Swordsmanship was one thing.
It was advanced technique, yes, but Academy-taught rather than a family secret.
So it wasn’t strange that pieces of it had circulated by word of mouth.

But the rest—that was different entirely.
The weakness in the middle forms. The flaw in his wrists.
Those were exactly what the instructor repeated every day.
The fact that his opponent had spotted this blind spot at a glance—the very thing Serent had never managed to overcome—meant he couldn’t possibly hide his shock.

“Out of the way!”

While Serent stood frozen, the Mage stepped forward.
Mages were profoundly practical creatures.
Which meant there was no time for chivalrous talk about honorable duels between knights.
Even as such nonsense spilled from others’ lips, the Mage was already casting in secret.

“Destruction Flame!”

Sparks kindled at the tip of the Mage’s Staff.
What began small soon swelled beyond restraint.
The result was a sphere of flame more than two meters across!
The time to complete it had been remarkably brief.

“Fireball!”
Whoosh—crack!

With the incantation complete, the flame sphere traced an arc through the air.
The air shimmered along its path, the view rippling and obscured.
It was aimed directly at Delram.

“Hold on—stop!”

Another Intermediate-rank Knight shouted urgently.
They had to find out how Delram had discovered this place.
And more than that—he knew the Ullem 12-Form perfectly!

But the Mage ignored him and continued pouring Mana into the spell.
It was a Mage’s instinct.
If they didn’t eliminate the threat now, something terrible would happen.

And perhaps that instinct saved them.
The opponent had no time to dodge and took the Fireball head-on.
There was no defense, no evasion—a perfect, direct hit.

Boom!

The Fireball detonated the instant it made contact.
A violent wave of flame spread forth with a deafening roar.
The ground inverted, and stone fragments scattered like shrapnel.

“Arrgh! Are you trying to kill me too!?”

Through the chaos of the blast, Serent’s voice cut through the air in a shout.
His face flushed, he stumbled backward in quick succession.
Not from anger, but from the scorching wave of heat that struck him.

And yet, inwardly, he felt relieved.
Even though the explosion had occurred nearby, the heat alone was scorching his face.
What, then, of that peculiar fool at the center of the blast?

There was nothing to consider.
Surely he had been torn to ribbons, his body beyond recognition.
Though the smoke obscured the view, there was no doubt.

Whoooosh—

That was when it happened.
Suddenly a gust of wind rose, and the smoke began to coil and shift.

It wasn’t strange in itself.
This was the highest Mountain Peak in the region.
Wind here was nothing but natural.

Yet the direction of the wind was the problem.
The fierce gust blew straight toward Serent, of all places.
In an instant, he was engulfed in the smoke.

“Hm?”

His vision blurred, his sight diminished.
Of course it was only smoke; there was no other threat.
He simply needed to wait a moment.
The wind would keep blowing and clear it soon enough.

Serent’s reasoning was perfectly sound.
If there was a problem, it was this:
the world does not turn by logic alone.

“What—?”
Clang!

Serent snapped his blade up with sudden urgency.
Through the murky haze came a Long Spear, its shaft stretching toward him!

It was a strike he never saw coming, yet he managed to deflect it.
The spear’s edge scraped across his Two-Handed Sword and shot upward.

Serent drew in a sharp breath.
Even the strongest knight needed oxygen for his muscles to have strength.
What he needed was one good breath.
A reflexive action, preparing himself for the battle to come.

Whoosh-crack!

Suddenly, the wind exploded in front of Serent’s face.
Not sharp, but fierce as a typhoon.
His breath was forced backward involuntarily.

“Cough!?”

Even plain air would have been agonizing, but this was a detonation.
Gray smoke filled his lungs, and his head immediately swam.
His breathing tangled, and his Mana scattered.

Still, it lasted only an instant.
Serent’s Mana Road was stubborn and resilient, befitting an Intermediate-rank Knight.
The disturbance subsided quickly, and his Mana stabilized.

But even an instant leaves an opening.
And it was an invisible blade that exploited it perfectly.

“Argh!”

Serent staggered as the Blade of Wind slashed across his knee.
A reflexive instinct screamed a warning—something had gone wrong.
Terrible pain confirmed that dread.
Yet instead of collapsing, Serent pushed forward.

“Uaaaaaagh!”

Serent roared and forced himself to take another step.
From the half-severed knee came not a snap but a sickening crunch.
It might leave him permanently disabled.
But instinct whispered to him:
if he didn’t move now, his neck would be next.

The smoke obscured his opponent’s form, but he could guess well enough.
He’d measured the distance while parrying the Long Spear moments before.

‘Here!’

Serent surged forward with a long, powerful stride and raised his sword overhead.
The Two-Handed Sword rose as smoothly as if drawn by magnets.
Even his wrists, usually so stiff and reluctant, moved with impossible fluidity.

In that moment, Serent understood.
The very weakness the Academy instructor had so harshly condemned.
He had overcome it—just now, in this instant.
The path to High-rank Knight had opened before him.

Uuuuoooong!

The Two-Handed Sword sang like a living thing.
True Sword Resonance!

The Aura, crammed with all his Mana, blazed brilliantly even through the smoke.
Serent brought down his vertical strike with everything he had.
This was his Secret Technique!

And the sound that came was not a clean crack—
but rather a grinding screech of metal on metal.

“What… what?”

Something scraped, and a tremendous recoil shot through him.
He nearly lost his grip on the sword.

Could it have sliced through armor?
But before an Intermediate-rank Knight’s Aura, even steel became tissue paper.
Unless it was a sacred armor forged from pure mithril!

Whoosh—

The answer came swiftly.
A pressure wave born from Serent’s Aura, and the smoke it thrust aside.
Beneath it lay a sacred barrier composed of sixty-four planes.

“What a shame.”
“Nnnngh!”

The half-severed barrier scattering into golden particles. Within it—
Delram’s spear was already swimming through the wind.

[Secret Technique: Silent Piercing]

A thrust with the usual uninspired name.
But the spearpoint, transcending physical law, pierced through armor and—

“Choke!”

Serent collapsed, a coin-sized hole torn through the base of his neck.
Blood welled from it like a spring, unstaunched and relentless.

Serent, who had witnessed countless deaths, understood.
The time allotted to him was precious little.
So he wasted none of it trying to staunch a wound he could not stop.

Instead, he barely turned his head and spoke a warning.
To the comrades behind him.

“Run… run…”

This thing is a demon—
The words he could not finish hung there.

* * *

Serent’s final words never reached them.
Or rather, they did—but they meant nothing.
His comrades were already uttering the same thing from the ground.

“This… this can’t be real…”

Another Intermediate-rank Knight coughed blood, murmuring.
His face had gone ashen as if he beheld something that should not exist.
What he saw was death itself.

That death had not yet departed.
Unsatisfied with severing one of his own arms and leg, perhaps?
He now clung to the Junior, doing much the same.

Squelch!

The death-bringer reversed his grip and struck down through the Junior’s body.
Indifferent hands, yet they targeted the major Mana Road with perfect precision.
The pathways of Mana that circulated through his entire frame shattered in an instant.
Better to be killed outright—what cruel artistry was this!

“Aaaaaaah…….”

A sound different from a scream spilled from the Junior’s lips.
That sensation of Mana cultivated over a lifetime scattering to nothing.
He couldn’t imagine such despair, and didn’t want to.

In truth, there was more than just this that he couldn’t comprehend.
What exactly had happened moments before remained equally baffling.

The Fireball exploded, and smoke billowed upward.
Immediately after, his ally was engulfed in the haze, and sounds of combat reached his ears.

Up to that point, it made sense.
So when the smoke cleared, his comrade should have walked out.
Instead, why was his ally lying dead with a hole through his neck?

The knight blanched and drew his blade in panic.
Yet the outcome was his complete defeat.
What was even harder to accept was the manner of it.

‘My sword… my blade couldn’t connect.’

The reason was simple.
The opponent had dismantled his Swordsmanship entirely.
Anticipating his every move—when and how he would strike—the opponent stayed one step ahead, seizing the timing of attack and defense before it could even manifest.
Before such mastery, even the gulf in rank meant nothing.

It was impossible. Utterly impossible.
Suppose the opponent knew the Ullem 12-Form and had mastered it.
But to dismantle it was a different matter entirely.
Even seeing a weakness required the [tools] to exploit it.

That is, other High-rank Swordsmanship techniques.
And the opponent had perfected those as well?

‘And what in damnation is that cursed protective barrier……!’

It wasn’t just Swordsmanship.
Had it been only that, he wouldn’t have been driven so far back.
The greater problem was the Golden Protective Barrier wreathing the opponent.

It was clearly an artifact, yet he’d never seen nor heard of anything like it.
A Fourth-Circle Mage’s Fireball struck it without leaving a mark.
It had even repelled his own Aura.
After desperate effort, he’d managed to shatter it, but…….

-Luminous Deity?
-……!

It regenerated from a single murmur!
Not by grinding a Mana Stone, not by chanting a prayer.
Just a single word spoken!
What kind of sorcery was this?!

Of course, it seemed to have limits—the second time, it didn’t regenerate.
But what did that matter?
In that interval, the opponent simply walked toward the Mage.

-Ugh!

He simply struck the man down and left him senseless.
Then he came for Delram himself and hurled him aside.

In the end, they had been defeated.
No—”roasted” would be no exaggeration.

‘I have failed my duty, my lord…….’

The knight squeezed his eyes shut and worked his tongue.
Against his back molars, he felt the cold touch of metal.
Now if he gathered his Mana and shattered the Poison inside—

“Hold on, respect for life!”
“Gack!”

Delram had appeared without warning, swinging his Scabbard.
Teeth flew in a shower of agony.

The knight’s eyes rolled back as he lost consciousness.
A master had made short work of his final performance.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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