The Reincarnated Assassin is a Genius Swordsman - Chapter 671

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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 671

Crunch.

The demonic energy crushed beneath my foot writhed like an insect. As if seized by terror, it convulsed grotesquely before seeping through the railings and dripping downward.

Tsk.

I clicked my tongue as I ascended the staircase, thick with viscous demonic energy.

‘There’s no end to this.’

Without Wrath, which I’d received from Wrath, I would have exhausted both Manhwagong and Glacia’s aura just reaching this point.

It seemed Baurn was playing around at the top of this tower precisely because he believed no one could pierce through this vicious corridor of demonic energy.

-Grrrgh…

Wrath trembled with clenched fists as he settled on my shoulder.

-This isn’t what the True Demon King wanted! I didn’t hand over my wrath for this! Whyyyy!

He cried out in protest with each step up the staircase, unable to accept that his weapon had become mine.

‘Once this is over, I’ll buy you ice cream. Just stay quiet.’

I sighed and pressed down on Wrath’s head.

-Huff.

Wrath clamped his mouth shut as if he’d been waiting for this. It occurred to me that he’d been angling for this all along. Truly an unpredictable Demon Lord.

“Hey.”

Saint Olga gestured from behind me.

“You’re not doing this alone, are you?”
“Doing what alone?”
“You’re pushing yourself too hard!”

She furrowed her brow in disbelief at how effortlessly I was repelling the demonic energy.

“If you’re consuming your life force to do this….”
“I’m not as foolish as you are. Don’t worry about it.”
“Damn it…. Even when I’m trying to be concerned, you’re impossible.”

Saint Olga glared at me and ground her teeth.

“What do you mean by ‘not as foolish as me’?”

Rimer looked at me as if asking what I was talking about.

“That fake Saint. When she exhausts her holy power, she grinds away her own life force to replace it.”
“What…?”
“The black lines carved into her limbs aren’t tattoos—they’re the result of her skin melting when she converts life force into holy power.”

I furrowed my brow, looking at the Saint’s protruding lips.

“That’s like a predatory loan you can never repay! Why would you live like that!”

Rimer, having fought in such a manner himself, widened his eyes in disbelief.

“How others live is none of your concern.”

Saint Olga waved her hand dismissively.

“Don’t waste your holy power needlessly.”

I gestured toward Saint Olga’s contorted expression. Despite our opposite natures, watching her act reminded me of Merlin, which unsettled me.

“I’ll take care of my own neck, so keep your mouth shut.”
“You’ll die before you even throw a punch at this rate.”

Wrath shared one more piece of information about Saint Olga’s nature with me.

‘An early death.’

Regardless of one’s own position, those born with their upper dantian already open cannot live long, or so it was said.

‘Does that woman really not have much time left?’
-Didn’t I tell you already! Her upper dantian is far more open than the Charm Girl’s, so no matter how much she wishes to live, she cannot!

Wrath snorted, asking how many times I needed to hear it.

‘Now I understand why King Baurn said that.’

It was certain that King Baurn had told Olga he would kill the god trying to take her away so quickly because he knew of her lifespan.

‘I’ve never seen a woman as mad as Merlin.’

Olga, born with a short lifespan yet tightening that very lifespan further to save others, was like a moth carrying straw and diving into flames.

“You are….”

As I looked down at Olga and narrowed my eyes, Wrath suddenly surged forth.

-Wait! With all this chaos happening, the Ice Cream Shop cannot possibly be safe! Go at once!
‘Then I could just buy from somewhere else… there’s one upstairs.’

I was about to convince the clinging Wrath when I looked up toward the upper floor. The flow of demonic energy suddenly grew thick. Someone was up there.

As I climbed the staircase, I saw Pirn and Guard Commander Danieff standing on gray ground where holy power and demonic energy seemed intertwined.

“I never expected you to return.”

Pirn’s eyes widened in surprise.

“….”

Danieff remained silent, simply gazing at me with calm eyes.

“Pirn! Danieff!”

As Olga climbed the staircase, she called out both their names.

“These damn bastards!”

Her shoulders trembled as if they might collapse from the sheer fury coursing through her.

“Olga.”

Pirn called her by name rather than her title as the Saint, a faint smile crossing his face.

“You’ve poured out all your holy power to protect the entire kingdom, and yet you’ve come this far. You’ll truly die at this rate.”

He shook his head calmly, as if he knew Olga’s secret.

“Yeah. I’ll die. But first, I’m taking you bastards down.”

Olga clenched her teeth and raised her fists.

“What I find even more incomprehensible than Olga is you.”

Pirn exhaled a low sigh and turned his gaze toward Raon.

“It’s not holy power, aura, or mana—I cannot fathom what force you use to pierce through demonic energy. What power do you possess…?”
“…”

Raon did not answer Pirn’s question. He stepped across the gray floor, advancing toward the staircase that would lead him to the next level.

“I’m sorry, but this is as far as you can go, Raon.”
“…”

Pirn thrust forward a fist blazing with pure white energy, while Danieff drew his blade and aimed for Raon’s throat in the same motion.

Raon did not even glance at Pirn and Danieff. He continued forward with an unshakeable stride toward the staircase.

Whoooosh!

Before Pirn’s fist strike and Danieff’s blade could reach Raon, a brilliant white light and azure wind erupted forth.

Clang!

Rimer and Olga. The two of them stood to Raon’s left and behind him, perfectly intercepting the assault from Pirn and Danieff.

“Your opponent is me!”

Saint Olga blocked Pirn’s fist with her forearm, grinding her teeth.

“He told me from the start to capture you.”

Rimer licked his lips while watching his blade clash against Danieff’s.

Raon ascended the staircase where denser demonic energy swirled, without even glancing at the exchange between Saint Olga and Rimer.

“Hey!”

Saint Olga turned to look at Raon, her brow furrowing.

“Grab that bastard Baurn by the collar and drag him down here!”
“If he’s alive.”

Raon gave a light nod and continued to the next level. He neither looked back nor slowed his pace. It was the picture of absolute trust in his companions.

“Stop!”

Pirn’s form grew hazy as if dissolving into mist. As he moved toward the staircase to intercept Raon, Saint Olga’s body took on the same ethereal shape, blocking the path ahead.

A resonant boom echoed through the air!

Fists imbued with holy power collided, unleashing a devastating shockwave that swept across the surroundings.

A deafening crash rang out!

Danieff also unleashed his energy toward Raon, but Rimer’s blade intercepted it, causing only a tremor that threatened to crack the floor.

“Move aside…”
“Once you’re in the game, you have to play by the rules. Where do you think you’re going?”

Rimer tilted his head, observing the wavering in Danieff’s eyes.

“Saint Olga! You must trust His Majesty!”

Pirn pushed back against Saint Olga’s fist, his jaw trembling.

“Trust? You want me to trust a king who shakes hands with the Demon Race and sacrifices his own people as offerings?”

Saint Olga twisted her lips as she glared at Pirn.

“These are turbulent times. With the Six Emperors Five Demons—no, monsters even worse than that—ravaging this Continent, there is no other way to survive! His Majesty chose this path to save the Kingdom….”
“I also think gods are bastards. My ears are deaf and my eyes are blind. But you—you don’t even have eyes or eardrums!”

She clenched her teeth and hurled a fist wreathed in sacred light forward.

Boom!

Pirn deflected Olga’s fist with casual ease and drove his palm strike toward her abdomen.

Whoosh!

Olga blocked Pirn’s palm with her elbow, but the force pushed her back, her face contorting as she retreated.

Crash!

Olga launched herself forward, using the ground for momentum. Punches streamed forth without pause for breath, appearing chaotic yet governed by a precise system honed over countless years.
Though her strikes seemed wild, they were bound by meticulous technique accumulated through long ages.

Yet Pirn read every flow of her fist technique and deflected each strike effortlessly.

“Olga.”

Pirn shook his head, adopting a stance similar to hers.

“It seems you’ve forgotten who taught you your fist technique.”

He extended a fist wreathed in white sacred flames, his eyes narrowing.

“Yes. I learned from you.”

Saint Olga nodded calmly.

‘Forgotten? Never.’

Memories surfaced of her small hands as a child, mimicking Pirn’s fist technique.

I hadn’t forgotten a single detail—King Baurn and Danieff smiling behind us, the sunlight that kept my collar crisp, the cool breeze that soothed my sweat-dampened hair.

Because those memories with them were etched into my mind, I had to stop my master with my own hands, even if it meant my life ending here.

“Saint Olga. You cannot defeat me.”
“A master rejoices when their disciple surpasses them, or so I’ve heard.”

Saint Olga’s stance dropped low, like a lion stalking prey from the thicket.

“And what of you?”

Her skin melted away across her shoulders and thighs, sacred scars etched into the exposed flesh.

Sizzzzzzle!

Saint Olga kicked off the ground without so much as a flinch, her expression serene. She reappeared to the left, her fist—veins bulging—shot toward Pirn’s waist.

“Hmm.”

Pirn’s brow twitched slightly in surprise as he raised his hand to block Saint Olga’s strike.

Whoooosh!

As if anticipating the block, Saint Olga closed the distance and unleashed a barrage of punches. The shockwave from her fiercely honed strikes erupted.

“For you to surpass me… huh?”

Pirn deflected Saint Olga’s fist but then froze, his shoulder tensing.

‘What is this…’

Saint Olga’s strikes were deviating from their expected trajectory, boring in with increasing unpredictability, their power piercing his defense and shaking his bones and organs. This wasn’t the Saint Olga’s martial prowess he knew.

Crack!

The impact transmitted from Olga’s fist is so fierce that defense becomes increasingly difficult. The moment my fingertips trembled from the overwhelming pain, her fist struck my waist directly.

“Ugh!”

Pirn coughed blood as he was hurled backward. His waist caved inward like crumpled paper, carved deep and jagged.

“What… what on earth…?”
“Don’t be so surprised.”

Saint Olga gritted her teeth and closed the distance to Pirn, extending her fist again.

“Ugh!”

Pirn raised both hands into a defensive stance. He abandoned his offense entirely, channeling all his holy power into defense.

Yet Saint Olga’s fist curved like a whip, stretching long and ignoring his guard entirely, bursting through his shoulder and abdomen.

Splurt!

Pirn spewed blood as he crashed into the wall erected by demonic energy.

“This… what is this…?”
“I always wished for you to remain above me.”

Saint Olga stood before Pirn, whose legs trembled, biting her lip.

“Surely not…?”

Pirn shook his head, his lips quivering.

“You were concealing your strength all this time…?”
“As life approached its end, my mastery of the Way ascended madly.”

Saint Olga nodded heavily.

“A gift from death, one might say.”

She twisted her mouth downward and drove her left fist forward.

“Ugh…!”

Now Pirn could not withstand even a single strike from Saint Olga. He took the blow to his right chest and rolled across the ground.

“Wake up. I’m far from satisfied yet.”
“I-Impressive indeed. However….”

Pirn spat black blood and clasped his hands together. Unlike before, black demonic energy blazed above his pure white holy power.

The wounds where flesh had been exposed from the fist strike began to writhe and regenerate.

“I cannot retreat from this place either!”

Pirn charged forward with a bestial cry. His face, which had been suffused with benevolence, was now filled with ferocity.

Kuguguguguguuu!

The holy power and demonic energy enveloping his fist achieved a sinister harmony. A tremendous force swept through the space as if to erase it entirely.

Kuuuuuung!

Olga stamped her feet firmly. What gleamed in her eyes was not fear, but divinity.

“It’s the final technique you taught me.”

The faint white radiance gathered in Olga’s small fist blazed forth like sunlight, radiating intense brilliance.
The fragments of holy power scattered within the demonic energy tangled like threads, and resplendent light flickered in and out.

Kwaaaaaaa!

Olga and Pirn’s stances mirrored each other perfectly. Yet the victory between master and disciple who had chosen different paths was decided by their will.

Zzzzzzzzack!

Olga’s fist, which had walked a single path from the beginning—nay, had never even looked toward the downward path—shattered Pirn’s demonic energy and struck his right cheek with devastating force.

“Kugh….”

Pirn’s cheekbone crumbled, and he spat out all his pearly white teeth as he crumpled to the ground. The light vanished from his eyes as if he had lost consciousness in a single blow.

“Haegh….”

The moment Pirn fell, Olga collapsed in place and vomited black blood. Three more black lines had been etched across her legs. It was a miracle she had survived.

“Damn it….”

Olga cursed at the ceiling, her teeth grinding with frustration at her inability to move.

“Just drag him down here!”

*

*

*

“The student surpasses the master.”

Rimer tilted his chin toward Olga while locked in combat with Danieff.

“It’s what every master wishes for. Do knights not share the same desire?”
“….”

Danieff said nothing, instead driving his blade upward from below. The sword strike infused with Kangwhan grazed the tips of Rimer’s hair.

“Knights have their code of chivalry, don’t they? Does it permit such actions?”
“…A knight is one who stakes their life for their lord.”

Danieff brought his sword down in a diagonal slash, his eyes gleaming with chilling intent.

“A true knight would walk into hellfire at their lord’s command.”
“No.”

Rimer shook his head, gently deflecting Danieff’s blade. It was not mere strength—it was the will forged by his soul that flowed through the movement.

“You understand knighthood all wrong.”
“A lowly swordsman dares—”
“Yes. This lowly swordsman will show you true chivalry.”

Over the pristine white blade he held, azure winds and crimson lightning danced wildly.

“Sword Realm Incarnate. The Song of Wind and Thunder.”

The moment that resonant cry echoed through the chamber, the world saturated with demonic energy twisted violently.
Winds infused with the essence of nature and lightning crashed from all directions, unleashing brilliant radiance.

“A single strike,” Rimer murmured.

Rimer tilted his head as he drew back his blade, now wreathed in wind and thunder.

“…”

Danieff accepted the single-strike duel as well, drawing every ounce of his aura into his two-handed grip. Brilliant flames danced across his blade like waves.

Thump.

The instant a droplet of demonic energy fell from the ceiling to the ground, the blades of swordmaster and knight became brilliant rays of light, extending outward.

Craaaaaash!

The brilliant flames erupting from Danieff’s blade poured forth like a tidal wave, threatening to erase everything in Rimer’s path. The demonic energy caught before the flames was mercilessly torn asunder.

Shiiiiing!

The moment Rimer’s eyes flashed with azure light, the winds and thunder that had been raging from all directions subsided and seeped into his blade.

Sword Realm Manifestation—Eye of the Storm.

A new Sword Realm technique, applying the final strike of the Eye of the Storm to the song of wind and lightning.

What made this possible was the wind of the Gwangpung Style. The wind that dominated the atmosphere summoned a tempest of lightning from the darkness.

Between the single trajectory where the lightning storm descended, Danieff’s azure wave was caught.

Shreeeeeak!

The wave of brilliant flames, pouring forth everything Danieff possessed, split apart, and his blade shattered.

Splurttttt!

Violent blood erupted from Danieff’s chest. His strength completely drained, he fell to his knees and dropped his half-broken blade.

“I… I…”

Danieff trembled, his lips bleeding as if he couldn’t believe what was happening.

“What should I have done?”

He wasn’t asking about his defeat, but how he should have stopped Baurn.

“A knight is not a puppet who merely follows his lord.”

Rimer bit his lip, recalling Raon whom he had rescued from Sword Master’s Tomb, and the fallen Raystel Barfil and Koman Knight Commander Kuzan.

“The knights I’ve seen were people who, even if they committed sins, could rise again for their lord, and if their lord walked down a wrong path, they were the ones who would stake their lives to stop him. A true knight is one who would kick his lord’s rear end to set him on the right path if he strayed.”
“Kicking the rear end of a lord who walks down the wrong path, you say…”

Danieff looked upward, clenching his fists tightly. He seemed to regret not stopping Baurn.

“Don’t worry. Your foolish lord will be brought down by the king I serve.”
“The king you serve?”
“That’s right. A reckless king who doesn’t even need me to kick him—he’d rather kick me instead.”

The moment Rimer nodded, the demonic energy that had covered the upper level split apart, and golden flames surged upward. He pointed to the golden-haired, crimson-eyed youth standing within those flames and laughed.

“That boy is the young king of Zigheart whom I follow.”

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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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