The Reincarnated Assassin is a Genius Swordsman - Chapter 512

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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 512

Crack!

The lightning sword that had been tearing through the center of the violet radiance reversed as if time itself had been rewound, falling back into Glen Zigheart’s thick, powerful grip.

The Divine Heavenly Sword, once more in its master’s hands, sang a resonant blade cry and unleashed a blood-red torrent of lightning.

Dozens of lightning bolts descended, each one a transcendent swordmaster’s blade force. The brutal lightning pillars stretched forth like columns of pure light, obliterating the dragon’s breath and the auras of every transcendent being in their path.

Boom!

The concentrated power exploded in an instant, and a terrifying shockwave crashed down upon the earth. An abyssal chasm, black and seemingly bottomless, tore open across the ground.

Glen Zigheart descended upon the earth where crimson sparks erupted. With a wave of his hand, fierce winds arose and swept away the blackened smoke that burned in the air.

As the dust settled, the figures of the transcendent beings, now pushed back considerably, came into view.

“Ugh!”
“Hah.”

The White Blood Cult Master had taken a direct hit from both the breath and the sword strike, and white blood dripped from her lips as she gasped in pain. The Holy Sword Master’s eyes burned with intensity, as if meeting an old friend after many years.

“Uhhh….”

Sageomma was pinned to the ground, trembling violently while clutching his severed shoulder. His lips had already turned pale as death.

“This damned old man interfering again!”

The White Blood Cult Master gnashed her teeth as she glared at Glen.

“Well, well. What an honor to receive such an esteemed visitor.”

The Holy Sword Master spread both arms wide, his smile brighter than ever before.

“Glen Zigheart! I have never forgotten that stubborn face of yours for a single moment!”

He wetted his red lips with his tongue, as if eager to cross blades with Glen immediately.

“….”

Glen ignored the Holy Sword Master and the White Blood Cult Master, his eyes narrowing as he gazed at the gaping crater carved into the center of the battlefield.

‘Has he vanished?’

A being that had worn terrifying demonic energy like a second skin had stood at the heart of the battlefield, yet now that presence was nowhere to be felt.
He couldn’t be dead, so it seemed he had escaped through the gap created by the torrent of lightning and breath attacks.

“Heavenly Sword Master, Gwangpung Corps Commander.”
“Yes!”

At Glen’s call, Rimer and Sheryl stiffened their expressions and prostrated themselves behind him.

“Report the situation.”
“When the Gwangpung Corps arrived here leading civilians, Orgos of the Black Tower appeared. As the Gwangpung Corps was being overwhelmed, Raon….”

Sheryl briefly explained what had transpired after the Holy Sword Association and White Blood Cult’s assault.

“…According to the Demon King’s words, he only killed Orgos and did not lay a hand on Raon. It seems highly likely that Raon has fallen somewhere within the barrier or in this vicinity. Of course, I believe we shouldn’t blindly trust those words either.”
“I see.”

Glen nodded calmly, as if it were nothing. Yet beneath that composed exterior, his heart burned with anguish.

‘That boy really….’

When he heard that Raon had activated a large-scale teleportation to save the gravely wounded Gwangpung Corps, he found it both characteristic of the boy and heartbreaking.
His grandson had always prioritized others over himself, which only deepened his concern.

‘Just stay alive.’

I will find you no matter what.

Whoooooosh!

As Glen steadied his turbulent heart and adjusted his grip on the Divine Heavenly Sword, an old man descended in a brilliant golden light, holding an ornate staff. He was enveloped in a spiritual aura that transcended human form.

“The Demon King is….”

The Old Man paid no attention to the others, approaching the gaping hole that had been torn pitch-black into the earth.

“What has become of it?”

He seemed interested only in the Demon King, peering into the chasm with narrowed eyes.

“Hey, old dragon.”

The White Blood Cult Master’s eyes flashed a burning crimson as she glared at the Old Man.

“You’re not going to apologize for this mess?”

She gestured to her arm scorched by the dragon’s breath, grinding her teeth.

“Being a Dragon Lord doesn’t mean your scales are any tougher, does it?”
“What matters most is the annihilation of the Demon King.”

The Dragon Lord extended his hand without offering a single word of apology. Golden fragments slipped from his grasp and fell into the pitch-black abyss.

A deep rumble echoed.

Various energies exploded chaotically, yet the hole’s diameter remained constant from beginning to end.
After descending for a considerable distance, its bottom finally became visible, but nothing existed there.

“The demonic energy has vanished, but the feeling is not good.”

The Dragon Lord’s eyes narrowed as he stared into the empty void.

“A Demon King descended upon the Continent would not die so easily. I must verify this properly.”

As he brought his hands together, countless motes of mana spread outward in all directions.

“I have no interest in the Demon King.”

Black swords materialized like clouds behind the Holy Sword Master’s shoulders, their blades singing a thin, piercing note.

“Shall we test ourselves against each other after all this time?”

He rolled his eyes toward Glen, his gaze dark and ominous.

“Heavenly Sword Master, Gwangpung Corps Master.”

Glen didn’t even glance at the Holy Sword Master. He turned his gaze backward and called out to Rimer and Sheryl.

“Search the surroundings and locate the Gwangpung Corps.”

The Gwangpung Corps had undoubtedly been sent to safety by Raon, so despite his orders, the one he truly needed to find was Raon alone.

“We accept your command.”
“Without fail….”

Sheryl and Rimer bit their lips and moved eastward and westward respectively.

“Roen.”
“Understood.”

Roen, who had arrived late, rolled up his sleeves and drew the thin triple blade hanging at his waist. He moved with a light step before vanishing his presence into the darkness.

Crack—crack—crack!

As the 3rd Apostle and 10th Apostle, who had received the White Blood Cult Master’s gaze, attempted to move, crimson lightning surged from the ground, blocking their path.

“Until I permit it, no one leaves this place.”

Glen raised the True Heavenly Sword and aimed it at the Holy Sword Master and the White Blood Cult Master. His voice, like Wrath’s divine decree, carried intangible power that pressed down upon the transcendents.
Those exposed to the killing intent of a swordmaster at the apex trembled in their shoulders.

“As expected of the Northern Destruction King. Nothing has changed.”

The Holy Sword Master’s emotions flared as his black sword unleashed a blade cry so sharp it made the ears ring.

“Come then. Let us test ourselves. Your blade against mine. Which stands higher?”
“….”

Glen stood silent, raising the True Heavenly Sword. Killing intent wrapped around the black blade like ripples spreading outward.

“Do not worry. I intended to kill you all from the beginning.”

He raised an overbearing aura of energy, as if he alone, like Wrath, would face the Holy Sword Master and the White Blood Cult Master.

“Stop this at once!”

The Dragon Lord raised both hands and shook his head.

“If the three of you clash here, the balance of the Continent will crumble. The causal order itself will fracture….”
“That damned balance. That damned causal order.”

The Holy Sword Master glared at the Dragon Lord with irritation blazing in his eyes.

“You lot spit out excuses at every turn, yet why do you always interfere in human conflicts?”
“We act only to preserve the balance of the Continent.”
“So the ancient dragon in the Western Sea considers the Continent’s balance? A mad lizard that levels coastal villages whenever it grows bored?”
“Hmm….”

The Dragon Lord could not refute and let out a groan, yet he did not retreat.

“What matters now is the Demon Lord. It’s obvious he escaped alive, and this is no time to be fighting here!”
“He will be found.”

Glen’s lips tightened into a firm line as he regarded the Dragon Lord.

“If we cannot locate the Gwangpung Corps, none of us here will leave this place alive.”
“How troublesome.”

At the Dragon Lord’s gesture, two colossal dragons materialized above the night sky through spatial displacement.

“You will come to regret it if you do not cease this conflict.”
“Now….”

An ominous aura crept across Glen’s crimson eyes.

“Are you threatening me?”
“Hmm….”

The Dragon Lord retreated a step, cold sweat beading on his brow beneath the crushing weight of that oppressive aura.

“I am no different.”

The Holy Sword Master’s Order leader rested his sword across his shoulder, his jaw clenching.

“The main course has finally arrived. If you keep interfering, I’ll lose my patience.”

His expression twisted with eagerness—he clearly wanted to face Glen immediately.

Crackle!

Just as Glen and the Holy Sword Master’s Order leader raised their blades, locking eyes, the air split diagonally. A crimson space, as if painted with blood, materialized before them.

“Raon! It’s Raon’s barrier!”

Merlin threw herself into the barrier without hesitation, heedless of anyone’s reaction.

Glen, too, lowered his blade without a moment’s pause and stepped into the barrier. At this moment, nothing mattered to him more than his grandson’s whereabouts.

*

*

*

I watched the faint gray smoke rising from the far right edge and exhaled sharply.

-So…

I turned my gaze to Wrath, who sat leisurely on the cliff, my eyes narrowing.

-You planned to escape from the start?
“I told you. The True Demon King has no time to spare. The cold aura I laid across the ground was preparation for teleportation.”

Wrath waved his hand, explaining that the geometric patterns he’d spread across the battlefield before the fight began were Demon Realm teleportation magic.

-Then why waste time fighting?
“Because there was something I needed to do.”

He narrowed his eyes, caressing the pristine white blood aura blooming in his palm.

-Blood energy? Surely not….
“Yes. I examined the interior of the body that parasite had taken root in. And….”

Wrath suppressed the blood energy and drew a faint smile.

“I discovered that the body’s true owner still lives.”
-Really?
“Indeed. Suppressed by the parasite, but the soul itself remains alive.”

He told me that when he seized the White Blood Cult Master’s neck, he felt a small soul trembling within.

“However, in such a state, I cannot touch the True Demon King. I could kill the parasite, but the body would perish alongside it.”
-Then what should we do?
“You must take action.”

Wrath turned his gaze with a grave expression.

“You and the Charm Girl, who shares blood with that body, and you, master of a creature bearing intense hatred for the parasite, should be capable of saving them. Of course, it will only be possible if you overcome the parasite through force.”

He lightly brushed his hands clean. White energy rose softly, then flowed into his waist. It seemed he had fed the White Blood Cult Master’s blood energy to the Soul Reaper Sword.

“Will you be capable?”
-I’ll make it possible.

I nodded at Wrath, meeting his gaze.

-Thank you.
“Hmph. Not for you, but because I was looking after my subordinate.”

He turned his head sharply and muttered not to talk nonsense.

“Now I must attend to my final task….”
-Wait, I have a request.

I stepped forward to block Wrath’s path as he rose.

“There truly is no time. It could change at any moment….”
-I’ll accept your wrath.

I lifted my chin with a voice hardened by resolve.

-I have something I must do as well.

*

*

*

Martha bit her lip as she stared at the thick needle embedded in her arm.

‘It wasn’t a lie that this would be difficult.’

The needle was an artifact that extracted aura from warriors to replenish a patient’s vitality—a physical manifestation of the subtle principles of martial arts known as Aura Channeling. Because it relied on such intricate techniques, the burden on the caster was considerable.
It wasn’t merely painful; her energy drained steadily, leaving her head spinning and her entire body heavy as waterlogged cotton.

Yet Martha didn’t let slip even the smallest whimper. If she couldn’t endure this much, she would owe far too great a debt to the Gwangpung Corps, who had protected her to the very end.

“How are they doing?”

Martha approached the healer, who was examining Dorian, Burren, Lunan, and Mark Goeten in turn.

“Those two should survive, at least.”

The healer gestured toward Burren and Lunan, declaring that their lives were not in immediate danger. As Martha exhaled in relief, his words continued.

“However, their shoulder bones are dislocated and their internal injuries are so severe they may never fight again.”
“That….”

Martha’s jaw trembled. For those two, martial arts were more precious than life itself.
The thought that they could never wield a sword again left her speechless.

“As for him, he should be fine if we amputate the arm. A decision needs to be made quickly.”

The healer clicked his tongue briefly, his gaze fixed on Mark Goeten’s arm.

“And finally….”

His gaze fixed on Dorian, who lay at the forefront. Dorian’s arms and legs remained twisted and mangled, his abdominal wounds still unhealed.

“I’m at a loss with this one. I’ve never seen anyone survive injuries like these. Even if the priests came, there’s nothing they could do.”

The healer closed his eyes, thinking it might be a mercy to send Dorian peacefully to the other side.

“I can… I can give more of my life force and aura. Please…”
“You’re already pushing yourself too hard. Stop.”

He was about to warn that any more would cause severe internal damage when he suddenly froze.

“Ah…”

The healer’s eyes fluttered before he collapsed. It wasn’t just him. Every patient and healer in the Healing Center lowered their heads.

“Wh-what is… ah.”

Martha’s lips trembled. Her mind went blank, consciousness slipping away. She too succumbed to the overwhelming drowsiness and fell to the floor.

Whoooosh!

Blue frost scattered throughout the Healing Center where everyone had collapsed, and Wrath appeared.

“Huff…”

Wrath examined the condition of the Gwangpung Corps and let out a short sigh.

“Let me be clear. You’ve already accumulated considerable wrath from summoning the True Demon King, and you’ve lost a portion of your mental realm. This is far greater damage than losing stats or martial techniques.”
-I know.
“Yet you still wish to accumulate more wrath?”
-Yes.
“Have you gone mad? If this continues, you’ll struggle to control your emotions of wrath. When the True Demon King descends into your body in the future, you may never return.”
-There’s something a trash bastard told me long ago.

I smiled with a distorted expression, watching the sleeping Gwangpung Corps.

-He said humans become weak when they have something precious.

Actually, it wasn’t long ago—it was in my past life. Derus Robert had instructed me never to create anything I cherished, saying that humans who possess something precious inevitably become weak.

-At the time, I thought that was right, but now that I think about it, it wasn’t.

If I had trained alone, I would never have reached my current level.
Because Wrath, Rimer, and the Gwangpung Corps stood with me, I was able to reach where I am now. Losing them would be far more devastating than shattering my mental state.

-I became strong because of those bastards, and they became strong because of me. Bonds aren’t weaknesses—they’re strengths.
“Humans, truly…”

Wrath clicked his tongue and extended his hand. The demonic energy that Orgos had been tearing through the Gwangpung Corps swordsmen’s wounds was completely extracted and absorbed into his palm.

“This one will be difficult with that method alone.”

He furrowed his brow as he looked at Mark Goeten.

-Can he be healed?
“Demonic energy is negative force. One can heal oneself, but cannot heal another. However, this True Demon King can distort that very principle.

A blue aura ignited in Wrath’s left hand, and a silver aura blazed in his right.

“When negative and negative condense and twist, they become positive—that is, a plus force.”

As he brought his hands together as if in prayer, a deep blue radiance emerged from his palms.

“Be grateful. Those other foolish Demon Lords couldn’t do this.”

Wrath smiled brightly and scattered the blazing radiance from his palms onto Mark Goeten’s arm.

Whoooosh!

The moment the blue aura touched him, the charred flesh on Mark Goeten’s burned arm tore away, and new skin began to fill in.
His arm regenerated with a cleaner, more vibrant color than before the injury.

“This should suffice.”

Wrath passed Mark Goeten and stood before Lunan Slion.

“Our ice cream girl. This True Demon King truly wanted to share ice cream with you.”

He gnashed his teeth and scattered the light of healing upon Lunan Slion as well.

Kyaaahhhhh!

Black blood surged from the unfilled hole in her abdomen, and white flesh sprouted like fresh shoots.

Wrath erased every wound covering Lunan Slion’s face and body, then moved to the side.

“The eyes.”

Burren Zigheart had severe injuries elsewhere, but his torn-out eyes were the worst.

Whoooosh!

As Wrath snapped his fingers, blue irises emerged from within Burren Zigheart’s blood-soaked eye sockets. Though their color differed from the original, his pupils flickered and moved momentarily.

-This is….
“Eyes need eyes, don’t they?”

This wasn’t healing—it was more like an artifact. Wrath said he wouldn’t treat this and healed the wounds on Burren Zigheart’s shoulders and abdomen instead.

“Sigh….”

Wrath finally stood before Dorian and exhaled deeply.

“This foolish wallet bastard. He should have held back and retreated.”
-I didn’t expect Dorian to do something like this either.
“Humans sometimes commit foolish acts that transcend the dignity of their souls. How could he end up in such a state….”

He examined Dorian’s condition and shook his head slowly. Even he, a lord of the Demon Realm, seemed never to have witnessed wounds of this severity.

Wrath burned more demonic energy and brought it to Dorian’s wounds.

Crunch, crunch, crunch!

With the sound of bones twisting, Dorian’s arms and legs—crumpled like wet laundry—began to return to their proper form.

The pain was so severe that Dorian’s entire body trembled violently, and sweat poured down his head. Yet his arms and legs regained their shape in a relatively short time, and fresh flesh filled the hole pierced through his abdomen.

Color gradually returned to Dorian’s face, which had been deathly pale just moments before.

“This is harder than fighting.”

Wrath wiped the sweat trickling down his forehead with his sleeve and let out a sigh.

-Thank you.
“The True Demon King will bear half the burden.”
-What?
“These wretches are my subordinates, are they not? Though causality prevents me from accepting everything, I shall take half of your burden.”

He laughed coldly, telling me to consume only half the rage I should rightfully bear.

-Are you really a Demon Lord?
“Why ask the obvious! I am the confident and fearsome sovereign of the Demon Realm!”

Wrath shook his head, his hands planted firmly on his waist.

-Fear, huh…
“Rather, you are the one who seems inhuman!”
-Perhaps you’re right.

I smiled faintly and nodded.

-Now you need to do your part. What have you done?
“Right, right! There’s truly no time to waste now!”

Wrath nodded, then quickly concealed his presence and left the room.
Inside the Healing Center he had departed, only the sound of steady breathing remained.

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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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