The Reincarnated Assassin is a Genius Swordsman - Chapter 842

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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 842

“Ugh….”

Rimer exhaled a pale breath and deflected the spatial blade that Seif had unleashed.
The mere act of blocking the strike sent searing pain through his arm as though he’d been struck by a metal ingot, and a nauseating sensation twisted through his insides.

“You’re going to keep blocking that?”

Seif looked down at Rimer and clicked his tongue briefly.

“It would be easier if you just dodged.”

He shrugged as if questioning why Rimer simply stood there taking the hits.

“Damn, you’re really infuriating.”

Rimer wiped the blood trickling from his mouth with his sleeve and ground his teeth.

“Why? Even with your injuries, someone of your caliber could easily evade.”

Seif shook his head as if he couldn’t comprehend it.

“Ah, don’t tell me it’s because of those deadweights behind you?”

He raised a slender finger, pointing at Dorian and Aris Zigheart standing behind Rimer.

“Both of them are useless. One is completely worthless, and Mother gains strength simply by being in this space.”

Seif tilted his chin up and waved his hand from side to side.

“Just abandon them. Make things easier for yourself.”

He raised the black sword again, ready for a proper fight.

“You certainly know how to talk.”

Rimer spat out the blood pooling in his mouth and let out a bitter laugh.

“Constantly firing spatial slashes in this direction.”

Seif unleashed his slashes not toward the direction he was moving, but only toward Aris Zigheart and Dorian.
Seeing him mutter complaints after securing such an advantage made me want to slit his throat.

“Then keep blocking them.”

Seif curled his lips into a long smile and slowly drew out his black blade.

Screeeech!

Unlike the black blade advancing slowly, the spatial slash he unleashed burst forth before my eyes, revealing a chilling murderous intent.

Clang!

Rimer twisted the leaf-shaped blade diagonally and deflected the spatial slash Seif fired toward the lower left.

Boom!

The ground where Seif’s slash landed was carved so deeply it became invisible, and the cavern trembled as if it would collapse.

‘This isn’t easy.’

From blocking Seif’s full-power spatial slash earlier, cracks had formed in the artificial arm attached to my right shoulder, making my hand unable to move properly.
With internal injuries worsening, the artificial dantian also couldn’t exert its full power. It was the worst possible situation.

“M-Master….”

Dorian’s lips trembled as his face was covered in tears.

“It’s fine. I’ve experienced this much many times before.”

Rimer smiled thinly and lowered his head slightly.

‘Yes. I’ve experienced it many times.’

Unlike what was known about being a genius, I had suffered countless defeats.

‘When was my first defeat…?’

Rimer opened his hazy eyes as he watched Seif’s spatial sword strike hurtling toward him once more.

‘That’s right. It was that man…’

*

*

*

Back when I was no different from the other Elves.

A human visitor had come to Sepia after a long time.

“Among the humans who entered the Holy Ground today, there was a direct descendant of Zigheart. Glen Zigheart. They say he’s the current Head of House’s son.”

Erian swallowed hard, saying that this human’s eyes were different from all the others.

“Different, you say…?”

For Erian, who showed no interest in other races, to speak that way was intriguing. I decided to seek this human out and see for myself.

As I waited in front of Grandfather’s residence, the wooden door soon opened, and a man with brilliant golden hair—radiant as sunlight piercing through the forest—stepped out.

Despite his youth, I could already sense the aura of a perfected warrior. Just as Erian had said, he seemed formidable, and when his gaze turned toward me, a competitive spirit I didn’t know I possessed surged within.

I was captivated. Normally I would have ignored him and focused on my duties, but I wanted to feel the presence emanating from this man through combat.

In the evening when the forest grew quiet, I sought out Glen’s lodgings and knocked on the door.

“What brings you here?”

Glen spoke with an old man’s manner of speech despite his youth. It seemed amusing in retrospect.

“I am Rimer, Guardian of Sepia.”

“I’m Rimer, a Guardian of Sepia.”

At that time, I was the Grandfather’s grandson and a Guardian of Sepia, so I introduced myself with the utmost courtesy.

“Would it be permissible to request a sparring match?”
“Very well.”

Glen Zigheart nodded without the slightest hesitation.

From childhood, I had heard whispers of my talent, and there were even suggestions that I might succeed my grandfather as a Guardian. I possessed considerable confidence in my abilities.

But then.

Before we had even exchanged more than a few blows, I found myself kneeling in the dirt. It was a defeat so absolute, so complete, that there could be no excuses.

“That was an excellent match.”

Glen Zigheart entered the Dormitory without a single bead of perspiration on his brow.

I was bewildered. The world of swordsmanship I thought I understood had shattered.

Whether I lay in my Bedroom at home, ate my meals, or stood watch at the perimeter, Glen Zigheart’s tyrannical swordsmanship haunted my every thought.

I wanted to see him again, to face him in combat once more.

The next evening, I went to find Glen again and requested a sparring match.

“Very well.”

Glen Zigheart accepted with such casual ease that it was almost absurd.

But I lost again. The next day, and the day after that—I continued to lose.

After days of anguished deliberation, when Glen Zigheart departed from Sepia, I followed him without looking back.

‘The Head of House’s expression was truly worth seeing.’

These days, I often witness Glen Zigheart’s bewilderment because of Raon, but that was the first time I had ever seen him truly surprised.

Glen Zigheart seemed pleased with my determination and resolve, and he immediately entrusted me with command of the Assault Unit.

Of course, there were those who opposed.

“The Assault Unit? What makes you trust some stranger?”

Sheryl. That pretty-faced hothead had been spouting complaints from the moment we first met.

“Just looking at you, you’ve got the build for it, but your face says you’re not cut out for real work!”

She furrowed her brow with an expression not much different from now.

“…You’re a noisy one.”

That was the first thing I said to Sheryl.

“What?”
“Don’t use words. Speak with your sword instead.”

Displeased at being dismissed, I immediately threw down a challenge to Sheryl.

And damn it all, I lost.

“From now on, crawl before me. Don’t even think about taking command of the Assault Unit.”

Sheryl snorted and left the Sparring Arena. It was only later that I realized—from that moment on, Sheryl treated me not as an Elf, but as an equal.
She was deeply considerate, but had a terrible temperament.

“Your sparring experience is far too limited.”

Glen chuckled softly, saying it was a problem that could be solved with time and effort.

“Spar with Sheryl once a day.”

Following his words, I sought out Sheryl every day to request a match, and lost every single time.

But just as Glen said, it seemed the sparring experience was the issue—gradually I began to keep pace, and about six months later, I defeated Sheryl for the first time.

“You bastard….”

Sheryl sniffled indignantly, tears glistening at the corners of her eyes, and fled the Sparring Arena without wiping them away.

“See you later. I won’t lose tomorrow, no matter what!”

It was endearing. I never knew that someone who nagged so much could have such a side to them.

“You’re more than capable of leading the Assault Unit now.”

Glen Zigheart patted my shoulder as if to say well done. My chest warmed more than from the sense of accomplishment that came with growing stronger.
I didn’t yet understand humans well, but it felt as though I had gained a new family.

The very next day.

Glen Zigheart sent me the swordsmen who would serve under me.

“It’s an honor to meet you! I’m Slan!”

A man with a cheerful demeanor and a likable impression bowed his head.

“Yuser….”

A gaunt woman with dark circles beneath her eyes simply stated her name while turning her head slightly away.

“Kureo Zigheart.”

A young man who appeared to be in his mid-twenties greeted me with excessive formality.

“I’m Drevin. Please entrust me with all matters concerning finances.”

A middle-aged man with a somewhat stocky build for a swordsman extended his hand with a smile.

Unlike the Elves, who all looked similar no matter where you looked, these humans each brimmed with individuality.

However, unlike Glen Zigheart and Sheryl, building relationships with them was not easy.
For over a decade, we maintained nothing more and nothing less than a superior-subordinate relationship—instruction and orders given and received.

After Glen Zigheart became the Head of House, we continued working together, and fortunately our teamwork was flawless, with not a single failure.

As always, we received a solo mission for the Assault Unit, and as we camped out before reaching the site, Slan broke the silence.

“Organization Master, do you perhaps have a dream of some kind?”

Slan tilted his head curiously as he looked at me.

“…I’m not sure.”

Back then, I didn’t really have what I could call a dream.
Reaching transcendence was more of a goal than a dream, and Glen had ascended to the position of Head of House on his own without providing much help.

“Then shall I share my story?”

Slan leaned forward toward the campfire with a smile.

“I wish there were no unfortunate children. That’s why I’m donating, even if it’s a small amount.”

He said he was donating his salary to orphanages and care facilities, hoping that no children would have to grow up as difficult as he did.

“It’s not a small amount—you’re putting all your earnings straight into it!”

Drevin snorted at Slan.

“You just hoard money. At least he’s better than that.”

Slan frowned at Drevin.

“Why are you accumulating money?”

Since I felt no value in money whatsoever, genuine curiosity arose.

“Money is power. You wouldn’t understand if you have it. Life without money is like hell…”

Drevin waved his arm, saying that because he lived in poverty as a child, his dream was to become the richest person on the Continent.

“I want to gamble without limit!”

Kureo, from the Direct Line of Zigheart, rubbed his hands together as he licked his lips.

“The sensation when I’m reading cards can’t be satisfied even through combat.”

He licked his lips, saying he was looking forward to returning and going to the Gambling House.

“You always lose anyway.”
“Winning or losing isn’t what matters. It’s that thrill that I love!”

Kureo laughed, saying that gambling itself was what made him feel alive.

“That’s only because you’re rich. You enjoy gambling because you have so much money.”

Drevin frowned, clearly disapproving of Kureo.

“Yuser, what about you?”

Slan looked toward Yuser, who was already beginning to doze off.

“I just want to sleep….”

Yuser shook her head, barely lifting her eyelids.

“I was born as stone, and my dream is to sleep my whole life….”

She murmured, dreaming even as she spoke of wanting to dream.

“Actually… I’ve been thinking I’d like to raise some children.”

Slan gazed at the campfire, a gentle smile crossing his face.

“So you want to get married and have kids?”

Kureo clicked his tongue, calling it ordinary.

“No, I mean I want to become a true master. Not just an instructor, but a real mentor.”

Slan smiled faintly, glancing at Rimer.

“Just as the Organization Master cared for us so carefully, I want to raise children to become excellent swordsmen.”
“I see….”

Honestly, I couldn’t understand it. Charity, material desire, gambling, laziness—they were all values that had nothing to do with me.

Even after ten years, I felt the distance between myself and my subordinates had never truly closed.

“Organization Master, once this mission is complete, would you like to visit the Orphanage with me? The children adore handsome people, so you’d surely be welcomed.”
“Forget the tedious Orphanage—come to the Gambling House with me instead! I’ll show you the full experience!”

Slan and Kureo waved their hands enthusiastically, each pitching their own invitation.

“Better yet, if you have money, entrust it to me. I’ll double it for you within a year.”

Even amid this chaos, Drevin rubbed his hands together eagerly, his mind fixed on finances.

“….”

Yuser, indifferent to it all, drifted into sleep with a soft snore.

“If the opportunity arises.”

Those were my words, but in an era where dozens of wars erupted across the Continent each day, finding time beyond our missions was nearly impossible.

Years passed in this manner, and my subordinates and I marched into war against the Holy Sword Association alongside Glen.

That day—the one I thought would remain unchanged forever.

Slan gazing at photographs of the Orphanage children, Yuser lounging lazily in his sleeping bag, Kureo shuffling cards, Drevin counting money—an ordinary day like any other.

Every member of the unit fell, and I sustained injuries so severe that death would have been unremarkable, my core shattered beyond recovery.

When I came to, I was in Zigheart, and my subordinates hadn’t even left behind corpses.

For an Elf, the death of another is not a sorrowful thing. The deceased become the mana of this world, and we meet again.
The deceased become the mana of this world, and we meet again.

Yet because my soul had melted into a human’s existence, my heart was pierced as though by a blade, and my chest ached with unbearable sorrow.

While I lived like a hollow shell, confined to my chamber, Sheryl burst through the Dormitory door and stormed inside.

“Ugh! Look at all this dust!”

Sheryl waved her hand dismissively in disgust, her gaze fixed upon me.

“Hey! Get out and clean this place!”

She said nothing else and shooed me out, insisting she needed to clean.

I stumbled out of the Dormitory on unsteady feet.

Walking aimlessly, I found myself in the Bustling District, where I spotted a gaudy sign—the Gambling House that Kureo frequented.

With the single gold coin remaining in my pocket, I entered the Gambling House.

I lost everything on the first hand. Kureo had spoken of the pleasure of splitting cards, but I felt nothing. I couldn’t understand why I was doing this.

The next day, I visited the bank to see the money I’d accumulated over time. Gold coins stacked like a mountain at my window. Drevin would have loved it, but it stirred nothing in me.

With a hundred gold coins, I sought out the Orphanage where Slan made regular donations.

Several children stood on their tiptoes, gazing over the wall. They seemed to be waiting still, unaware of Slan’s death.

When dawn broke, I left behind the gold coins and a letter that seemed to be from Slan, then departed.

The children were delighted, but my heart remained unmoved.

Finally, I entered the room Sheryl had cleaned and slept for days, just as Yuser did.

No matter how hard I tried, sleep wouldn’t come, and my eyes opened naturally at dawn.

Donations, idleness, money, gambling—nothing resonated with me. Those people and I were still walking parallel paths.

Yet I repeated those actions every day. I looked at the money, made donations, gambled, and slept like the dead.

When did it begin? The sight of accumulated wealth brought me joy, splitting cards at the gambling table made my heart race, seeing the children’s faces during donations filled me with pride, and the more I slept, the happier I became.

The day I became human from an Elf.
The day I could comfort my subordinates.

For the first time, tears streamed down my face.

And Slan’s final words came back to me.

‘You said you wanted to become a true teacher, not just an instructor.’

Upon seeing me, Slan seemed to have a realization and said he wanted to become a true master.

After a long time, I finally gathered my resolve and went to find Glen Zigheart, telling him I wanted to become an instructor.

“…It took you long enough.”

Glen Zigheart drew a bitter smile as if he had been waiting for this moment. Those words weren’t meant for me alone.

“But an instructor? I can’t give the position of Zigheart instructor to someone with no qualifications. Pass the test directly and earn your credentials.”

He didn’t treat me as an old comrade and told me to take the test and come back.
It was different from the time when I had fallen into darkness and become indifferent to everything. Glen Zigheart had also completely escaped the demonic heart.

“Hmph.”

Sheryl snorted dismissively, but she couldn’t hide the warmth in her eyes.

“Very well.”

I barely passed the damnably difficult test Glen Zigheart had set for me and obtained the credentials of an instructor.

And just as Glen Zigheart had come to Sepia, I met a child whose red eyes sparkled with unusual brilliance.

That was my new beginning, and my greatest happiness.

*

*

*

Crash!

Rimer bit his lip as he felt an impact that seemed to twist his wrist.

“Ah….”

Had I lost consciousness for a moment?

The pain from my internal injuries was so severe that I lost consciousness for a moment.

“Where are you looking? You need to keep defending. If you don’t….”

Seif thrust his jaw forward and fired a spatial blade toward Dorian behind him.

Screech!

I dragged my barely-functioning legs backward and parried the blade strike aimed at Dorian’s neck.

“Haah….”

It was the moment Rimer exhaled to prepare for the next attack.

Boom!

Seif burst through the torn space and plunged his black sword into my chest.

“Cough!”

Rimer coughed up blood and doubled over.

‘Damn it….’

My reaction was too slow. I could feel the black sword piercing flesh, shattering bone. A scream tore from my throat as agony ripped through my soul.

“See? When you worry about insects, this is what happens.”

Seif threw a thick sneer toward Rimer.

“If you die anyway, they die too.”
“That’s not true….”

Rimer raised his left hand and grasped the black sword piercing through his chest.

“As long as I’m alive, my disciples live. That’s enough.”
“…You still have this much strength?”

Seif let out a hollow laugh as he watched the black sword caught in Rimer’s left hand refuse to budge.

“Unit Commander!”

Dorian rushed forward with a cry, his sword already drawn as he carried Aris on his back. He brought the blade down toward Seif’s neck.

Clang!

Dorian’s strike was sharp enough to transcend his own realm, yet it shattered against Seif’s aura like mist dissolving into nothingness.

“Worthless trash!”

Seif, displeased, unleashed a powerful kick that sent Dorian flying.

“Ugh!”

Dorian crashed down, blood spilling from his lips, yet he immediately pushed himself up to charge at Seif again.

‘That one too…’

Rimer’s lips trembled faintly as he watched Dorian, who had cast aside all fear.

‘He’s grown so much.’

The Dorian he once knew would have cowered in a corner, paralyzed by fear in such a situation. Yet now he charged headlong at a Transcendent—a sight that kindled a spark of hope within him.

“I’ll kill you first!”

Seif drew his black sword, channeling lethal intent into his right hand.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Yet Rimer refused to release his grip on the black blade that had pierced his chest, his resolve absolute.

“You mad bastard!”

Seif’s fists rained down upon Rimer’s defenseless body as his right arm creaked and groaned with each blow.

Whoooosh!

Sepia’s divine power, as if granting his final wish, summoned a magnificent wind that pushed back the encroaching darkness.

“What the—!”

Seif lowered his left hand in shock, attempting to defend using Aris’s aura.

‘I’m going through regardless.’

With freedom returning as if it had been lost, power surged through my entire body.
I gripped the blade short, raised my fingertips, and drove the sword forward, wreathed in the winds of Garunua I had accumulated and the Gwangpung Style that Raon had imparted to me.

Clang!

The wall of aura, distorted by an azure glow, shattered, and a deep sword wound was carved into Seif’s chest.

“Hah…”

But now my strength was truly spent—I could no longer hold the blade.

“You wretched bastard!”

Unable to contain himself, Seif struck his own abdomen while the black sword remained embedded. I felt death drawing near.

Yet his left hand, gripping the black blade’s edge, did not release its grip.
Even if he ended here, he had to protect my disciple and that child’s family.
His knees trembled, his teeth clenched against the pain, but he endured.

But even willpower has its limits—finally, strength drained from his hand, and his vision began to fade white.

He harbored no regrets about this battle.

Not ascending to transcendence, the wounds sustained protecting others—all of it was acceptable.

Only the inability to protect Dorian now, and departing without seeing Raon and the other children’s faces again, drew a thin sigh from him.

“Persistent wretch! Fine! I won’t kill you just yet!”

Though Seif could end himself immediately, he instead poured aura into the black sword as if to inflict greater suffering.

The agony of bones and flesh being torn apart actually sharpened my senses. There was nothing I could do.
As I merely waited for death, exhaling blood-tinged breath, space tore open, and a winged figure burst forth, bleeding profusely.

Familiar flames tore through space, and Raon Zigheart and the children of the Gwangpung Corps emerged into view.

“As expected of Raon Zigheart. But you’re a bit late.”

At Seif’s mocking words, Raon and the children turned around.

The trembling eyes of the children upon seeing my form pierced sharply into my chest.

There’s no need for that expression.

The reason I’ve survived until now.

The reason I endured while bearing a false arm and swallowing a false core—it was all because of you.

You’ve made me live as a human being once more.

Sigh.

I can feel the time allotted to me drawing to a close.

What should I say?

Should I ask you to kill this damned traitor miserably?

Should I ask you to tell Glen to finally be honest?

Though I won’t be able to see it, should I ask Raon to become the finest Head of House anyone could hope for?

If they are the disciples I know, they could fulfill any request.

But I didn’t want to burden these children with such heavy words when they’re already suffering.

Then the answer is already decided.

“Always….”

Rimer swallowed the blood rising in his throat and smiled. He didn’t want his disciples to remember his final face twisted in pain.

“Be happy.”

I offered a final farewell, painting the brightest smile of my entire life across my face.

My young king.

No—my greatest disciples.

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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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