The Reincarnated Assassin is a Genius Swordsman - Chapter 120

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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 120

Outside the Tavern Training Courtyard.
I stood face to face with a swordsman whose eyes gleamed yellow.

Not only the patrons from the tavern but soldiers who had heard the rumors came flooding in, turning the Training Courtyard into a sea of people, and even a gambling den had sprung up.

“That guy is Turka from the Ulves Mercenary Group! Once he starts fighting, he clamps down like a wolf and never lets go!”
“Right. No need to rashly accept this provocation! Let’s stop this.”

My senior scouts expressed their concern, but I shook my head. A worthy offering had come seeking me out to elevate the achievement of Radiant Fang Sword—there was no reason to refuse.

“It’s fine. I don’t shy away from fights that come to me.”

I smiled with confidence and stepped forward.

-Damn it! There’s even a saying that a demon who ate and died looks appetizing. The food’s getting cold!
‘I’ll order you the same thing again.’
-Hmph, well, if that’s the case.

Wrath retreated, insisting on the exact same thing, especially pizza without fail. He was a Demon King whose weight was as light as a feather.

“I’m Turka, Squad Leader 4 of the Ulves Mercenary Group.”
“I’m Raon.”

Turka showed courtesy even to the much younger Raon. However, he couldn’t hide a hint of contempt in his gaze—he didn’t entirely believe the rumors that I had cut down six Sharkmoles with a single strike.

“Let me see just how skilled that swordwork is that supposedly cleaved a Sharkmole in one strike.”

With those words, Turka kicked off the ground and drew his blade. He brought the thick saber down in a straight line, as if piercing the heavens. It was an attack that fully leveraged the advantages of a heavy, thick blade.

However, the power, speed, and trajectory all fell within the range I had anticipated.

I raised Radiant Fang Sword to meet the blade descending like lightning.

Clang!

The aura-infused sword and saber clashed with such force that cracks spiderwebbed across the frozen Training Courtyard floor.

“You blocked it?”

Turka’s eyes bulged as he locked blades with me. He clearly hadn’t anticipated a direct frontal defense rather than evasion.

“I told you.”

I pushed his heavy saber aside with my lighter blade, a cool smile playing across my face.

“My sword would be fierce.”
“Grrk!”

My slash—savage as a beast baring its fangs—sent Turka’s saber flying to the right. Without hesitation, I extended my left fist through the opening.

Whoosh!

My punch, compressing the very air, slammed into Turka’s right flank.

“Ugh!”

Turka crumpled like a shrimp, his body driven hard into the ground.

“Wha…?”
“Turka went down that easily?”
“Isn’t he supposed to be in the top ten of the Ulves Mercenary Group?”
“What kind of punch makes rocks explode like that?”
“How did he deflect a saber with such a thin blade? That’s the real mystery here.”

Both the mercenaries and the onlookers stared in stunned silence, their gazes darting between me and Turka.

“I was holding back, actually.”

I casually rested my sword across my shoulder.

“Hngh…”

Turka pushed himself up with his saber, his yellow eyes wavering like a sailboat caught in a storm.

“You asked to see my sword. I haven’t even begun yet.”
“Gaahhh!”

The moment I flicked my fingers, Turka gritted his teeth and charged forward. Despite his shock, the seasoned mercenary maintained a cold rationality born from countless battles.

I swung the Radiant Sword against his blade as it came slashing horizontally.

Clang!

A thunderous crash erupted as if metal itself were being crushed, and Turka’s blade was driven back. It seemed like a defeat, but his eyes remained sharp. He twisted his waist mid-air and brought his sword down in a follow-up strike.

“Now that’s better.”

I bent my knees slightly and drew my blade low and swift, like a swallow in flight.

Clang!

Turka’s wrist bent as though it would snap. Such was the power of the Radiant Sword—creating openings in the opponent’s defense.

“Ugh!”

As Turka hastily retreated, I surged forward like a gale.

Thud!

I drove into his space and struck his chest with my left shoulder.

“Guh…”

Turka’s eyes rolled back as he flew backward. Foam bubbled from his lips.

I dusted off my hand lightly and turned to face the others.

Among the shocked stares, I pointed at one of the Ulves Mercenary Group members whose mouth hung agape.

“You’re next, if you don’t mind.”

I raised my sword with an eager smile, my spirits lifted.

“You don’t intend to end it like this, do you?”

*

*

*

Radin set down his belongings at the Dormitory and made his way directly to the Commander’s Office.

Commander Milend was reviewing a map with his son, Deputy Commander Terian, apparently in preparation for a meeting.

“Weren’t you scheduled to return the day after tomorrow?”

Milend planted a red flag marker on the map and lifted his gaze.

“An urgent matter has forced an early return.”

At Radin’s grave tone, Milend set down the flag marker while Terian uncrossed his arms.

“Speak.”
“Sharkmoles have emerged as far as Tunnel 5.”
“Tunnel 5? That’s the outer edge of the Forest!”

Terian struck the desk as if the very notion was absurd.

“Yes. This is the first time I’ve witnessed Sharkmoles ascending toward the Sturrin Mountains.”
“How many emerged?”
“Six burst forth simultaneously.”

Radin lowered a cloth bundle containing Sharkmole fins to the floor.

“Extraordinary!”
“So they’ve truly abandoned their territory….”

Both Milend and Terian stared at the fins, their expressions frozen in shock.

“Wait! Six Sharkmoles ambushed us, so why are you all unscathed? The casualties! How many died?”
“There were no casualties.”
“What?”
“Huh?”

The two men’s eyes widened in shock, even more so than when they’d first heard about the Sharkmoles.

“H-how is that possible?”
“You couldn’t have defeated the Sharkmoles on your own.”
“That’s what I’d like to ask.”

Radin swallowed hard and lifted his head.

“Raon. What exactly is that guy?”

His eyes reflected the shock of someone who had just witnessed something from the depths of hell itself.

“It’s not me. We’re alive because of Raon. He warned us first that the Sharkmoles were approaching, and then he single-handedly slew all six of them that appeared. I didn’t even have a chance to step in.”
“He fought six Sharkmoles alone?”

Terian’s voice trembled.

“Yes. He overwhelmed them completely. He cut down five Sharkmoles in a single stroke each, in the blink of an eye. When the last one tried to escape underground, he threw his dagger and shattered the ground itself.”

Radin’s eyes still trembled with the memory.

“I’ve lived in this hellish land and witnessed many warriors and heroes, but this is the first time I’ve seen someone so young possess such overwhelming power. What kind of monster have you sent us?”
“….”

Milend said nothing, simply staring down at the map before him.

“How did the scouting go?”
“It was frustrating.”
“What?”

Milend’s eyes narrowed at the answer that had nothing to do with his question.

“Terrain recognition, monster traces, time and weather, map reading and direction—he knew everything like a scout who’d lived here for years. He even knew about the hollow spaces beneath the Training Courtyard.”

Radin exhaled deeply.

“The boy was so talented that I grew irritated, but when danger struck, he actually reassured me instead.”
“So his character is good?”

Milend tapped the worn desk with a charred finger, as if contemplating something.

“Yes. He doesn’t boast about his accomplishments or act arrogant about his knowledge. In just two days, he got along well with the scouts. If I hadn’t seen his swordsmanship, I would have thought he was a mercenary or hunter who’d suffered since childhood.”
“What about the other one?”
“Dorian? To be honest, that boy is even more peculiar.”

Radin squeezed his eyes shut.

“More peculiar?”
“Yes. He carries all sorts of strange items. In all my years, I never imagined I’d sleep on a mat during a scout mission and drink warm tea.”
“What is his personality like?”
“He’s kind. A bit timid, but he observes his surroundings well and takes care of what’s needed. The time we’ve spent together is short, so I can’t say for certain, but both of them seem like good-hearted boys.”

Radin spoke honestly about what he’d observed and felt while watching Raon and Dorian.

“So answer me already! Where did those strange monsters come from! They’re from a noble house, aren’t they? I should have noticed from the refined elegance overflowing from their faces!”
“Those children are….”

Just as Milend was about to answer, an urgent knock sounded from outside.

“Commander!”

Charles, one of the adjutants, burst through the door with a flushed face.

“What is it?”
“Well, that is….”
“Calm yourself and speak.”
“You know those new recruits who arrived two days ago?”

At the mention of new recruits, the eyes of all three people in the Commander’s Office gleamed simultaneously.

“One of them has gotten into a fight with Turka from the Ulves Mercenary Group. They’re clashing with real swords in front of Frost’s Branch!”
“What? Why?”
“It’s obvious. Turka must have heard the rumor about one of them single-handedly defeating a Shark Mole and picked a fight.”

Terian answered as if he were witnessing the situation unfold before his eyes.

“The Ulves Mercenary Group….”

Milend’s expression darkened. The Ulves Mercenary Group possessed formidable courage and fighting spirit that proved invaluable in combat, but they were far too enamored with violence.

Without external conflicts to occupy them, they created disturbances within the ranks—a perpetual headache in every conceivable way.

“Before the fighting escalates and someone sustains serious injury, it would be wise to intervene. Raon hails from their ranks, and while he possesses strength enough to contend with Sharkmol, he cannot overcome Turka—a warrior tempered through countless real battles.”
“Sigh, what a nuisance.”

Milend clicked his tongue and turned his gaze toward Terian.

“Go and break up the fight yourself. Bring Raon back here.”
“Understood.”

Terian nodded and departed the Commander’s Office. Radin followed alongside him, volunteering to accompany him.

“Hmm….”

Milend gazed at Sharkmol’s fin resting on the floor and exhaled a weary breath.

“Change is coming, isn’t it.”

The veteran who had devoted his entire life to defending this place found little comfort in such transformation. He released a shallow sigh, hoping his aging frame could endure whatever lay ahead.

*

*

*

“Those Ulves bastards really do nothing but cause trouble!”

Radin rushed toward Frost’s Branch, his brow furrowed in irritation.

“I warned you about this. Those muscle-brained fools have nothing but sinew where their minds should be. We should have refused them!”
“It’s true they lack discernment, but their value in combat is equally undeniable. There are no finer warriors for close-quarters battle.”

Terian stated the fact with a calm gaze.

“Well, that’s true enough.”

Radin smacked his lips and nodded.

“Either way, if these bastards laid a hand on our recruit, we won’t let it slide.”
“A strange monster, they say.”
“Monster or ghost, once they’ve joined the 3rd Scout Division, they’re all my subordinates! I have to protect them until they leave of their own accord. Besides, I owe Raon my life.”
“Heh.”

Terian chuckled softly. Radin was a typical Northern man—rough on the outside, but with a loyal heart beneath.

‘That aside.’

He hoped the boy wouldn’t be too badly injured.

Even if Raon was from Zigheart and possessed exceptional talent, he couldn’t possibly defeat Turka, who had honed his strength through real combat.

Fighting monsters and fighting people were entirely different matters.

Uwaaaaa!

As he picked up his pace, the sign for Frost’s Branch came into view, and cheers erupted. The area was already packed with spectators—there was barely room to squeeze through.

“Hup!”

Terian kicked off the ground and vaulted over the wall of onlookers.

“Huh…?”

Landing at the edge of the circular makeshift sparring arena, he froze like stone at the sight before him.

‘Why are they…?’

Five brave mercenaries who never retreated even before monsters lay sprawled out, their faces drained of all color.

And.

Crack!

With a sound like shattering rock, another mercenary was driven into the ground like a stake.

“Woooaaah!”
“He won again!”
“Six straight victories! That kid just crushed six Ulves Mercenary Group soldiers single-handedly!”
“Insane! The rumors weren’t lies!”
“He’s a sword demon. A sword demon!”

The spectators roared in praise of Raon, who had defeated six Ulves mercenaries alone.

“Hah….”

Terian’s jaw trembled as he looked to his right.

A golden-haired swordsman radiating a chilling aura had his blade pointed toward the Ulves Mercenary Group.

“Since I’ve grown bored, come at me all at once.”

The overwhelming pressure emanating from those crimson eyes made Terian unconsciously step backward.

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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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