The Reincarnated Assassin is a Genius Swordsman - Chapter 1066

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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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Chapter 1066

“Y-you… how are you here…?”

Martha closed her eyes, thinking it was a dream, then opened them again. But Rimer didn’t disappear—instead, his smile deepened.

“I couldn’t miss the moment the White Blood Cult Master got absolutely pummeled! A lifetime of bragging rights! And besides….”

Rimer swung his fist before looking at me with quiet, resolute eyes.

“It’s your responsibility. You had to crawl back up, even from Hell itself.”

He gently grasped my shoulder as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

“The Organization Master is still the same….”

Martha’s eyes grew moist as she looked at Rimer. Her teacher—playful as a child yet grave when it mattered—hadn’t changed one bit.

“Organization Master?”

Rimer tilted his head in confusion.

“I like being called that, but wasn’t I Vice Organization Master before I died? I got demoted after losing to Raon.”

He laughed brightly, speaking of how Raon had taken his position from him. That boyish smile remained unchanged.

“Well, never mind about my dead self.”

Rimer tightened his grip on my shoulder.

“You finally succeeded.”

He slowly gazed around my Sword Realm, which was composed of the Sea of Blood.

“I always knew you’d be the first to complete your Sword Realm.”

Rimer nodded as if he truly believed in me.

“Ugh….”

Martha lowered her trembling head, concealing her expression. As she heard Rimer’s sincere praise, the tears she had been holding back fell, dampening the Sea of Blood.
Though only slightly, the crimson waters seemed to grow lighter.

“Of course, I never imagined you’d create such a brutal Sword Realm! But it suits the name Rakshasi perfectly!”

Rimer grinned, saying that a Rakshasi should indeed be capable of such creation. At the sight of his refreshing laughter, the fatigue and pain that had accumulated until now seemed to vanish, and vitality bloomed within my soul.

“Um, over there….”
“I’d like to talk more too, but we have something to do first.”

Rimer cut off my words and pointed toward the White Blood Cult Master, engulfed by vengeful spirits.

“Those wraiths can now exert their true power here thanks to Raon’s support. However….”

He narrowed his eyes slightly as he continued.

“Those creatures can torment and weaken the White Blood Cult Master, but they cannot kill her completely.”

Rimer retrieved the sword that had fallen into the Sea of Blood and handed it to me.

“You must finish her.”

He said he would help with the final battle and summoned the Leaf Wheel Sword from thin air.

Whoooosh!

The leaf-patterned blade suited Raon well enough, but as always,
it shone brightest in Rimer’s hands.

“I understand.”

Martha nodded, speaking to Rimer in formal speech for the first time.

“Master.”

I spoke the title I had wanted to call him all this time but could not, raising my blade.

“Oh, oh no! My fingers are bending!”

Rimer screamed, curling all ten fingers like the tentacles of an octopus.

“You damned bastard!”

Martha couldn’t hold back and kicked Rimer’s backside.

“After all the courage I mustered!”

With Rimer’s mere presence beside me, the tension dissolved and fighting spirit surged forth. I could truly feel that the spiritual pillar of the Gwangpung Corps had returned.

“A master, huh… It’s not so bad after all.”

Rimer waved his hand solemnly as if it were merely a jest.

“The secretive father will come along too, won’t he?”

He jerked his chin toward Denier, asking if he could fight.

“Of course…”

Denier exhaled a thin breath and steadied his trembling arms and legs.
Green wind bloomed from his back—it seemed Rimer had lent him aid.

“Let’s go.”

The moment Rimer’s final words escaped, Martha and Denier simultaneously kicked off the Sea of Blood.

“These wretches!”

The White Blood Cult Master exploded the rank and blood energy of her remaining souls, attempting to strike down both the vengeful spirits and Rimer at once.

But the obsession and thirst for vengeance of the souls who harbored resentment toward the White Blood Sect exceeded her imagination.

Crunch, crunch, crunch!

The vengeful spirits, indifferent to their own dissolution in the blood energy, rushed forward with even greater frenzy, tearing flesh from the White Blood Cult Master’s body.

“Aaaaahhhhh!”

The White Blood Cult Master lowered her hands, which had been preparing a counterattack, and her blood energy, pushing back only at the vengeful spirits.

“Now!”

With Rimer’s cry, three blades carrying a pale green wind descended toward the White Blood Cult Master.

Shwooooosh!

Rimer’s crisp blade strike cleaved the White Blood Cult Master’s waist in two, and Denier’s sharp blade tore out her heart.

Craaaaaash!

Martha’s Wave Sword, extended last, pierced through the blood energy spreading violently and severed the White Blood Cult Master’s neck.

“Ah…!”

The moment the White Blood Cult Master’s body, divided into three pieces, fell into the Sea of Blood, the vengeful spirits descended again and began tearing her soul strand by strand.

“Grraaaaaahhhhh!”

The White Blood Cult Master, as if no strength remained to resist, could only scream as her tongue seemed ready to burst.

Crunch crunch crunch crunch!

The vengeful spirits, as if to satiate their endless thirst for vengeance and hunger, devoured her entire soul while listening to her screams.

The sight was like piranhas consuming a human corpse without leaving a single bone fragment.

“….”
“Sigh….”

Martha, cradling her mother’s soul in her arms, watched the White Blood Cult Master’s screams and agony without blinking an eye, while Denier, unwilling to witness the sight, closed his eyes.

“What a view!”

Rimer, lying in the Sea of Blood, let out a refreshing laugh.

“This is how a revenge tale should end!”

He sipped from a bottle of liquor that appeared from nowhere, nodding with satisfaction.

“What about you? Are you satisfied?”

Rimer tilted his chin toward me, asking how I felt.

“Someone once told me that revenge would feel hollow once achieved….”

I clenched my fists as I watched the White Blood Cult Master, her soul melting away in endless agony.

“Strangely enough, I feel wonderful. It’s as though all the emotions and resentment I’ve accumulated are finally being released.”

I spoke with genuine satisfaction and nodded.

“Haha! I knew you were a rakshasa woman!”

Rimer clapped his hands, pleased with my answer. The sound of applause—something I hadn’t heard in so long—drew an involuntary laugh from me.

“But what did you mean earlier when you said I seemed like I’d use the Sword Realm first?”

I narrowed my eyes at Rimer.

“Exactly what I said—I thought you’d master the Sword Realm faster than Lunan Slion and Burren Zigheart.”

Rimer blinked, his words literal.

“How so?”

I narrowed my eyes further at Rimer.

“Because you were more desperate than anyone.”

Rimer smiled softly, as if recalling old memories.

“Burren Zigheart worked hard too, but he had the complacency of carrying Direct Line blood. Lunan Slion was as desperate as you, but he still harbored pity for his older brother.”

He trembled his long eyelashes as he thought of his cherished disciples.

“You were the most desperate among the three, yet you carried the most bitter thirst for vengeance. Your willingness to sacrifice your very life, combined with that fervent desire—it all forged the Sword Realm as it exists now.”

Rimer slowly closed his eyes, sensing his own soul and emotions within the Sword Realm called the Demon Prison.

“You… you were sensing all of that? You were?”

Martha exhaled sharply, caught off guard by his answer.

“A master, you say? A true master must read not only a disciple’s talent, but their emotions as well.”

Rimer wagged his finger, as if to impart a lesson.

“Hmm…”

Martha bit her lip as she gazed at Rimer. He was someone who revealed a different facet of himself each time she saw him, yet she never expected to witness new sides of him even after his death.

“The vengeful spirits have sated their thirst enough. Shall we end this now?”

Rimer shook the blood from his hand and grasped the Soul Reaper Sword once more.

“You are the master of this Sword Realm, and I have inherited the power of the Heart Sword from Raon. Together, we can bring this to a certain end.”

He took her hand and advanced into the tempest of vengeful spirits.

Whoooosh!

The vengeful spirits closed their jaws from tearing at the White Blood Cult Master’s soul and parted, opening a path for them.

“Ugh…”

The White Blood Cult Master’s body had been consumed entirely by the vengeful spirits—only her head remained, bobbing upon the surface of the Sea of Blood.

“You… I’ll kill you all…”
“Don’t speak.”

Rimer let out a scornful laugh and raised his blade.

“That’s right. It will never come to pass.”

Martha nodded and, alongside Rimer, drove her blade down toward the White Blood Cult Master’s crown.

Shhhhwack!

Two swords pierced the White Blood Cult Master’s brow, and her eyes turned a ghostly white.

“Kyaaaaaaagh!”

The White Blood Cult Master realized this was the end and struggled desperately to resist, but the two blades—imbued with the power of the Soul Reaper Sword and the Sword Realm—refused to release her, melting away every remnant of her soul.

Uuuuuung!

The Hell Gate, as if it had been waiting for this very moment, shot forth chains that wrapped around the White Blood Cult Master’s skull, now devoid of soul.

Kuuuuuung!

The White Blood Cult Master’s head, stripped of its soul, was impaled on the right side of the Hell Gate, dripping pale blood in steady drops.

“Haa….”

Denier watched the scene unfold, exhaling a heavy breath. That air carried sorrow, affection, and bitterness all at once.

Kugugugugu!

The Demon Prison, having obtained both the 10th Apostle’s body and the White Blood Cult Master’s soul, opened its gate once more, as if its purpose had been fulfilled.

“Is it finally over?”

Rimer watched his fading hands and clicked his tongue softly.

“Will we… be able to see each other again?”

Martha bit her lip as she watched Rimer toss away the empty bottle.

“What comes after this, even I don’t know. Probably not even the gods.”

Rimer stroked the vengeful spirits descending behind him and shrugged his shoulders.

“Ah….”

Martha gazed at Rimer with eyes full of regret.

“Still….”

Rimer approached me and extended a mature hand.

“It was good to see you.”

Rimer gently stroked my head, grateful that he could fight one last battle alongside his grown disciple.

“Wait, just a moment!”

As Martha reached out toward Rimer, an intense light erupted and the Hell Gate opened completely.

*

*

*

Screeeeeech!

Raon swallowed hard as he watched the Hell Gate open once more.

‘It’s changed.’

On the right door of the Hell Gate was a woman with red hair and red eyes—one who had never existed there before, now preserved within it. Her breath had ceased, yet from within her radiated a terrifying blood energy.

‘Is that the White Blood Cult Master’s true form?’

‘Then Martha won?’

As if confirming his suspicions, the Hell Gate seemed to have completed its task, creating a crimson current before vanishing into the earth where lava flowed.

-That is correct!

Wrath nodded as he watched the ground where the Hell Gate had disappeared.

-I no longer sense the soul of that wretched queen mosquito!

That fellow leaped up with joy, exclaiming that Martha had done it.

“Haaa….”

Upon hearing that the White Blood Cult Master was dead, my legs gave out and I collapsed where I stood. Now I truly lacked the strength to move even a single finger.

Screeeech!

The Mara Blood-Eating Avalokitesvara, which had threatened both me and Gwangpung Hall, began to stiffen slowly as if its connection to its master had been severed.

However, the Mara Blood-Eating Avalokitesvara did not disappear; instead, its body began to crumble into fine fragments.

“Uaaaah….”
“It’s, it’s over!”
“The blood monster has collapsed!”

The swordsmen of Gwangpung Hall realized through the Mara Blood-Eating Avalokitesvara that the White Blood Cult Master was dead, and they erupted in a roar so thunderous it shook the ground.

Crumble, crumble, crumble!

The moment the Mara Blood-Eating Avalokitesvara melted into sand, Martha, Denier, and Martha’s Mother—all tangled together—collapsed simultaneously.

Splurt!

Martha’s Mother, having lost the White Blood Cult Master’s power, sprayed crimson blood from her chest where Denier’s blade was embedded.

“M, Mother!”

The moment Martha opened her eyes, she rushed to her mother, sprinkling holy water and stanching the wound.

“Please!”

Martha scattered and fed her all the medicines she had brought as if to say she would never kill Evelyn’s Mother, but the wound wouldn’t heal because the blade mark was too sharp.

“Mmm….”

I wanted to help somehow, but I had reached the limits of my stamina and mental fortitude, and having poured all the sacred light born from darkness into Lecross, there was nothing I could do.

“S, step aside.”

Denier crawled forward on his knees toward Martha’s Mother. As he extended his trembling hand, the blood flowing from Martha’s Mother’s chest reversed its course inward, and her wound began to seal.

“H-how is this possible…?”
“Your mother was exposed to blood energy for a long time. When I saw that holy water wasn’t working, I tried using blood energy instead, and fortunately it took effect.”

Denier confirmed that Martha’s Mother’s breathing had returned, then coughed up white blood. His face had turned so pale it wouldn’t have been strange if he’d died right then.

“A-are you alright?”

Martha seemed worried about Denier’s labored breathing and supported him.

“I’m fine. I’m fine…”

Denier waved his hand to tell her not to worry, but the time remaining for him didn’t seem to be much.

“Snap out of it!”

Martha frowned and fed Denier a healing elixir.

I wanted to ask what had happened in the Sword Realm, but Martha didn’t seem to be in the state of mind to answer.

“Sigh…”

I exhaled a long breath and opened my right hand, which I’d been clenching tightly.

‘I should say goodbye too.’

The Soul Reaper Sword remained in my hand, its red blade gone, leaving only the hilt.

‘Thank you for everything.’

As I offered my gratitude, the hilt of the Soul Reaper Sword crumbled into fine dust like sawdust and scattered on the wind.

Whoooooosh!

The particles that had formed the hilt of the Soul Reaper Sword rose into the air as if alive, then wrapped around me enveloped in a violet aura.

Spirit wraiths. As the souls that had comprised the Soul Reaper Sword surrounded me, it felt as though I’d entered a different dimension—the weight vanished from my body, and I began to perceive the presence of the spirit wraiths in exquisite detail.

Whoooooosh!

A voice carried through the souls reached me from the wraiths.

Thank you.
I was happy to be with you.
It was joyful to live through the same time.
Thank you for achieving our revenge.
I think I’ll miss you.
I hope your future is filled with happiness.
I truly wish to meet you again.

The same words echoed endlessly.

“No.”

I shook my head while listening to the wraiths’ voices.

“I’m the grateful one, I was the one who found joy, I was the one who found happiness.”

I believed the help I received from the Soul Reaper Sword far exceeded what I gave to it, so I wanted to express my gratitude instead.

“So this is truly the end.”

I bit my lip as I watched the wraiths fade away as if departing.

“May we meet again someday.”

It was as I offered a prayer for the wraiths’ ascension.

Whoosh.

A crisp breeze brushed down from above my head.

“Huh…?”

As I swallowed hard and turned my head, Rimer—cloaked in pale green wind—was gazing down at me.

“M-Master?”

Raon stepped back, his jaw trembling.

-An ear? Is it really an ear?

Wrath’s mouth fell open in shock as well.

‘Is this real? Or is it the White Blood Cult Master’s sorcery?’

My heart nearly leaped from my chest—I hadn’t even dared to hope that Rimer would appear.

-Even the True Demon King doesn’t understand this!

Wrath gasped, saying he felt nothing either.

“It’s a bit awkward to call it ‘long time no see,’ isn’t it? I’ve been watching over you all this time.”

Rimer smiled softly and raised his hand.

“You’ve grown into a face that wears a crown well, Raon.”

He nodded gravely, as if pleased to see me face to face.

“Master…”

My chest swelled with emotion—even if the Rimer before me now were the White Blood Cult Master’s sorcery, it wouldn’t matter.

“Is it really you, Master?”

I met Rimer’s eyes with trembling pupils. The green eyes reflecting me were as clear and transparent as they had been in the 5th Training Ground.

“I have something to tell you.”

Rimer didn’t answer my question, instead drawing a faintly gleaming smile.

“Please, speak.”

I nodded, resolving to listen to whatever he had to say.

“Do you happen to have some money on you?”
“…What?”

The question was so unexpected that my mind went blank for a moment.

“I, I got stripped down to my underwear by these wraiths. With the interest piling up, I need quite a bit of money to pay it back…”

Rimer scratched his head, bewildered that there were so many wraiths skilled at gambling.

“This pathetic behavior.”
-How utterly vile!

Raon and Wrath exchanged glances as if they had made a pact.

‘The real deal.’
-Ears don’t lie!

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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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