The Reincarnated Assassin is a Genius Swordsman - Chapter 311

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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 311

I narrowed my eyes as I gazed upon the sheer Castle Wall looming before me.

‘The Kingdom of Knights, Owen…’

A name befitting its reputation.

As we drew closer to the Royal Castle, the atmosphere grew sharper, like frost-laden wind. It wasn’t the individual aura of swordsmen, but rather the collective discipline of an entire military force rippling through the air.

“Looks like they’ve come to greet us.”

Rimer chuckled and pointed toward the castle gate. Following his gesture, I spotted a young man and a middle-aged warrior standing before the massive gate—large enough for giants to pass through without difficulty.

‘Those two…’

The moment I saw their unchanged faces, their names came to me instantly.
The Third Prince Griere de Owen and Duke Tartan—they had visited Zigheart five years ago.

“We greet the Northern Destruction King!”

The Third Prince Griere and Duke Tartan dropped to one knee and bowed their heads the moment Glen arrived at the castle gate. It was the highest courtesy they could show within their own kingdom.

“It has been a long time.”

Glen nodded and gestured for the Third Prince and Duke Tartan to rise.

“It’s been about five years since we visited Zigheart.”
“Seeing how much you’ve grown, time certainly has passed.”
“No, no! Compared to Swordmaster Raon, I’m still just a fledgling!”

The Third Prince’s face flushed at the sudden praise, and he pointed toward me standing behind him.

“Ahem, I see.”

Glen cleared his throat and patted the Third Prince’s shoulder—a touch that was oddly gentle and benevolent, unlike his usual demeanor.

“Yes. I don’t think I mentioned it, but Raon saved my life once.”

The Third Prince recounted the battle near Camelrun where he had fought the White Blood Cult. It was the first real combat deployment of the Soul Reaper Sword.

“I had no idea such a thing occurred.”

Glen glanced back and narrowed his eyes. His gaze carried a reproachful tone—why hadn’t he been told?

“That boy doesn’t speak unless it’s necessary.”
“I’ve felt it before, but Raon truly embodies the ideal of a warrior. He’s different from those who merely feign humility on the surface.”
“Ahem, he’s simply taciturn, but I suppose one could see it that way.”

Glen cleared his throat more loudly and squeezed the Third Prince’s shoulder with greater force. The Third Prince looked as though he might die from joy, clearly having admired Glen all along.

“Hmm…”

I watched Glen and the Third Prince with a faint smile, tilting my head slightly.

‘Surprisingly compatible.’

Strangely, the two conversed like old friends reuniting after years apart. It was remarkable.

‘Regardless, his martial prowess has certainly grown.’

The Third Prince’s achievements had advanced so much that he seemed like a different person compared to when we met in Camelrun.
While still far from Master rank, he had firmly planted his feet at the highest level of Sword Expert.

‘However…’

I turned my gaze backward. I smiled watching Burren marveling at the Royal Castle, Lunan gazing blankly at the sky, and Martha absorbed in mental cultivation.

‘Their growth is far more dazzling.’

Burren, Lunan, and Martha—who had been watching over the Third Prince from below five years ago—had now climbed slightly higher than he had.

That the three of them had grown faster than the Third Prince, whom the Owen Kingdom pushed forward with full force, meant they had endured far greater trials.

‘And those three show no signs of stopping.’

Whether for myself or for my comrades, Burren, Martha, and Lunan are filled with the desire to grow stronger even now.
That passion won’t fade until they can use Sword Realm Incarnation, so the gap between us will only widen further.

“The Northern Destruction King was truly remarkable. When I heard that you alone defeated the White Blood Cult Master and Tacheon this time, my blood boiled with excitement.”

The Third Prince maintained the good atmosphere by speaking of Glen’s exploits and smiled broadly.

“Is that so.”

Yet Glen’s expression grew calm and composed despite hearing the praise. He withdrew his hand from the Third Prince’s shoulder and turned his gaze away.

“Well, let’s not linger here. His Majesty is waiting.”
“Ah, of course.”

Duke Tartan, sensing the atmosphere had grown heavy, offered a faint smile and grasped the Third Prince’s shoulder. The Third Prince recognized his mistake and stepped aside.

Creak, creak, creak, creak!

As the massive castle gate split in half and opened, waves of aura surged forth from the Royal Castle like flames.
It was the overwhelming presence emanating from the knights standing in formation before the gate.

‘Formidable.’

It was no wonder they were stationed at the Royal Castle—each knight standing in line possessed martial prowess worthy of being called a master.

‘Coming here was the right choice.’

Not only could I spar with the other heirs of the Six Emperors, but if I could face these knights, that alone would be invaluable.

“Raon.”

As I was savoring my anticipation, the Third Prince approached from the side. His eyes held a maturity that hadn’t been there before, though his smiling face remained unchanged.

“Are you well? I was quite worried when I heard you had been kidnapped.”

Seeing him express concern about my condition right upon arrival, it seemed his personality remained the same.

“Yes. I was fortunate.”
“Fortunate, you say. Others may think so, but my judgment differs.”

The Third Prince’s blue eyes deepened with an intense, otherworldly gleam, like the depths of a dark sea.

“I know how formidable and wise Swordmaster Raon is, and I’m well aware of how vile Eden and the White Blood Cult are. Had fortune favored us differently, Swordmaster Raon would not be standing here now.”
“Hmm….”

That’s somewhat disappointing.

I narrowed my eyes slightly. The Third Prince was, regrettably, seeing me for what I truly was.

-Why the disappointment? Wrath asked, tilting his head in confusion.

Wrath cocked his head, perplexed.

-Shouldn’t you be pleased that he acknowledges you?
‘Because it’ll be difficult to fight the prince properly now.’
-What….
‘By now, the Third Prince should have learned Owen’s secret techniques. I was hoping to see them in action.’

The Third Prince already knew he was no match for me. In his current state of mind, even if we sparred, he’d likely conceal his techniques.

‘The best opponents for drawing out techniques are those who underestimate me.’

After my abduction by Eden, rumors had spread that the Legend Sword Association’s reputation was inflated with hot air, and dismissive gazes had returned.

I’d been looking forward to crushing the arrogant scions of the Six Emperors who picked fights at the social gathering and extracting their techniques, but seeing the Third Prince’s eyes, it seemed Owen wouldn’t be so easy.

-You’ve got oil smeared on your head or something. How does everything work out so smoothly for you….

Wrath sighed, calling me a fortunate bastard.

“Your Highness, have you been well?”
“I’d like to say I have, but there have been quite a few dangerous situations. The White Blood Cult is truly everywhere. Previously….”

The Third Prince continued, saying that from fighting the White Blood Cult so much, the very sight of blood made him nauseous. As we chatted, I found myself already at the heart of the Royal Castle.

We passed through a corridor lined with a noble-looking crimson carpet and stopped before an iron gate covered entirely in diagonal crosshatch patterns, as if swords had been stacked upon it.

“This is the Audience Chamber of His Majesty.”

Duke Tartan raised both hands, gesturing toward the door. The fervent gleam in his eyes revealed just how deeply he revered the current king.

“Hmm….”

I gazed up at the imposing iron door and swallowed dryly. From within, I sensed a sharpness as though blades had been honed for centuries. The aura emanating from it was formidable enough to rival Glen Zigheart’s.

Knock, knock, knock!

As Duke Tartan knocked, the door to the Audience Chamber opened smoothly, revealing what lay beyond.
Before warm-hued brown pillars stood knights—but these were of a different caliber than any I had encountered before. They were the Royal Guard Knights of Owen, the mightiest shield protecting the king.

A tremendous aura swept forth.

As we passed through the wall of knights radiating formidable power, a middle-aged man seated upon the central throne came into view. Golden hair and blue eyes. His features resembled those of the Third Prince, yet sharper and more austere.

“Kuh….”

I bit my lip as I beheld the middle-aged man.

‘Overwhelming.’

Though the middle-aged man was not actively releasing his aura, goosebumps rose on my arms. The power that bloomed as naturally as breathing had already reached the heavens.

Those with lower martial prowess sensed nothing, but all who had reached Master rank or beyond swallowed dryly upon seeing the middle-aged man.

‘So this is the king of Owen.’

It went without saying that a king was not necessarily the strongest in his kingdom. In fact, most kingdoms had kings who were far from the strongest.
But Owen was different. Owen’s kings had always been the mightiest, and they had always drawn their blades on the front lines.

‘The Silent Sword Master, Lecross.’

The middle-aged man now seated upon that throne was no exception. He was the current king of Owen and the one called the mightiest knight—Lecross Albern de Owen.

-As expected.

Wrath bared his teeth in a grin as he gazed upon Lecross.

-Not quite on the level of your old man, but he’s built up his martial prowess properly. You humans have made some progress after all.

He nodded, admiring what he saw. For Wrath to offer such recognition meant that Lecross’s martial prowess had reached the heavens themselves.

“Welcome, Your Majesty.”

Lecross rose from his throne and descended the platform. It was something no king would normally do, but he made the exception to honor Glen Zigheart.

“It has been far too long since we last met, Northern Destruction King.”
“Indeed. Since the war ended, the time has stretched long.”

Lecross and Glen Zigheart faced each other with faint smiles. The rumors that they alone shared a favorable relationship appeared to be true.

“I heard you struck down both the White Blood Cult Master and Tacheon simultaneously. It seems the rumors were no exaggeration. You’ve risen to heights that can no longer be reached.”

Unlike his aura—honed to its absolute limit and razor-sharp—Lecross possessed a gentle countenance and voice. Merely looking at him brought a sense of peace.

“You flatter me. The Silent Sword Master himself has become unrecognizable since then.”

Glen Zigheart gazed at Lecross and nodded deeply. It was a sign of genuine admiration.

“You are too kind. Perhaps age has caught up with me—my sword moves of its own accord now.”
“How you boast of reaching new heights.”
“Only the Head of House would recognize such a thing.”

Lecross shook his head and then examined those behind Glen. His eyes first fell not on Sheryl, Roen, or Rimer, but on Raon.

“Hmm….”

Lecross’s blue eyes narrowed into ellipses.

“Are you Raon Zigheart?”
“My apologies for the late introduction. I am Raon Zigheart of the Gale Wind Squad, Your Majesty.”

Raon placed his hand over his chest and bowed respectfully.

“I heard you were one year younger than the Third Prince, which would make you nineteen?”
“That is correct.”
“I’ve heard tales of the Legend Sword Association, but to think you’ve already reached the intermediate Master level at nineteen. No, it’s more than that. If you fought with full intent, you’d display even greater power.”

Lecross clicked his tongue in disbelief.

“So that’s how you survived in Eden’s lair—there was a reason for it.”
“Hah!”
“M-Master rank intermediate?”
“Master rank intermediate at nineteen years old…”

Even the Royal Guard Knights standing before the pillars couldn’t hide their astonishment at my cultivation level, their expressionless faces breaking into quiet gasps.

“I thought our Third Prince would hold his own anywhere, but this fellow is practically cheating, isn’t he?”

Lecross turned his gaze back to Glen and let out a wistful breath.

“With a grandson like that, you must feel quite assured.”

He smiled faintly, his tone tinged with envy.

“Not to that extent. He’s simply a diligent child.”

Glen waved his hand dismissively, his voice softening just as it had when he first met the Third Prince.

“It’s more than that. If that boy continues to grow at this rate, the balance of the Six Emperors Five Demons may very well be disrupted.”

That a nineteen-year-old had reached Master rank intermediate was remarkable enough to leave the Silent Sword Master’s mouth hanging open as he gazed at me. His eyes gleamed not with jealousy or resentment, but with genuine delight. The fact that he could appreciate the strength of talent from a rival faction suggested his temperament was as magnanimous as the rumors claimed.

“Ahem! You know as well as I do that among those heralded as promising talents, only a handful ever truly shine. That boy still has a long way to go.”

Glen brought his fist to his mouth and coughed, his eyes narrowing. His voice trembled slightly—perhaps he disliked the praise.

“You’re as stern as ever. Perhaps that’s precisely why you’ve raised such a child.”

Unlike Glen, Lecross smiled warmly as he looked at me.

“Continue to strive in the future. Meeting a truly excellent warrior brings great joy.”
“Thank you.”

I bowed my head once more.

“Would you care for some tea? We have some fine leaves that arrived from the West Side.”
“That would be welcome.”

Glen nodded gently at Lecross’s proposal.

“Greer.”
“Yes, Your Highness!”
“Please show our guests from Zigheart around the Royal Castle.”
“Understood!”

The Third Prince turned to face the Zigheart delegation.

“This way, please.”

Before following the Third Prince, I glanced back and saw Glen and Lecross smiling. It was strange—I’d never seen Glen smile like that before.

—Hmm…

As we passed through the corridor and were about to exit, Wrath’s expression darkened.

‘What is it?’
—Another one is coming.

He gazed down the corridor, his lips curling slightly.

—Bright on the surface, yet damp and murky beneath. Even more so than that one from before…
‘Hm?’

I tried to respond but froze.

My heart suddenly pounded violently. Cold sweat trickled down my forehead, and a chill raced down my spine.

Thump.

In the Royal Castle corridor where countless people moved about, I heard only one set of footsteps. A sound far too familiar, one I didn’t want to hear, pierced my ears.

“Ugh…”

My jaw trembled uncontrollably, my teeth chattering violently. I clenched my fists so hard that blood pooled in my palms.

I gritted my teeth and lifted my head. A man approached through the center of the swordsmen dressed in blue uniforms.

Silver hair as if brushed by frost, eyes of an icy blue so cold they seemed to pierce through bone, skin as pale as porcelain from never seeing the sun, and features carved with such sharp precision they appeared almost sculpted.

Derus Robert.

That face—the one I could never forget even if I died and returned to life—was drawing closer.

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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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