The Reincarnated Assassin is a Genius Swordsman - Chapter 968

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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 968

Mirtan Village, where the master blacksmiths of Zigheart made their home.

Though the sun had set, the craftsmen seemed energized rather than weary, coaxing fiercer flames from the forge and striking their hammers with all their might.

Clang!

Balkan exhaled a long sigh like wisps of smoke, listening to the thunderous ring of the hammer.

“This cursed blade is absolutely infuriating.”

He glared at the black sword, its surface gleaming with a blood-red hue like coagulated blood, and gnashed his teeth.

“It endures the heat of three golden coals—what am I supposed to do about that!”

Balkan’s massive fists, thick as cauldron lids, trembled with frustration.

“There’s no solution. No solution at all!”

Golden coals were not something that could be mass-produced. Even if one poured their entire soul into crafting a hundred pieces of charcoal, perhaps only one would become a golden coal. Yet despite using three of them, they hadn’t even melted the blade’s surface.

“I should just smash it to pieces as it is!”

Balkan, speaking with absolute sincerity, lifted the enormous hammer he had leaned against the wall.

“Wait, please stop!”

Fasciron, a shaman dispatched from the Beast Alliance to break the curse on the black sword, sprang to his feet.

“It’s not as though nothing has changed!”

Fasciron urged him to stop, waving his hands slowly.

“Thanks to the heat you generated with the golden coals, I’ve been able to erode the curse dwelling within the black sword, even if only slightly. It’s as though we’ve carved a substantial crack in the thick wall of blood curse!”

He clenched his fist, declaring that now that he understood the method, repeating the same approach would eventually break the curse on the black sword.

“It’s not that simple!”

Balkan furrowed his brow as he glared at the black sword.

“Golden pills aren’t something you can just make whenever you want. On top of that, all the sorcerers who were performing the ritual have fallen ill!”

Fasciron and the Beast Alliance’s sorcerers had applied ritual magic over the black sword, which was stimulated by the golden pill’s heat.

At first it seemed to be working, but the sword’s intensely vicious blood energy caused the sorcerers to cough up blood and collapse instead.

“They’ve sustained internal injuries, but nothing critically severe. Once they recover a bit, they should be able to perform the ritual again.”

Fasciron shook his head as if to say there was nothing to worry about.

“Huh….”

Balkan seemed to find stability in Fasciron’s composed demeanor and exhaled shortly.

“How much of the curse remains?”

Balkan rotated his wrist up and down as he nodded.

“Ninety percent…. We’ve only managed to dispel about ten percent.”

Fasciron averted his gaze as if embarrassed by his own words.

“But this is just the beginning! We’ve created a small crack in the curse, so next time we might be able to shatter the entire wall!”

He clasped his hands together in front of him, asking for belief.

“Why not just break it as it is?”

Balkan bit his lip and picked up the hammer again.

“P-please don’t do that!”

Fasciron urgently spread both his hands wide.

“The sword is currently in a state of slumber. If we accidentally stimulate it and it awakens, a storm of blood will be unleashed!”

He shook his head firmly, insisting that Raon must never be touched carelessly.

“This is infuriating! Absolutely infuriating!”

Balkan hurled the hammer he’d been holding backward and grabbed his head in frustration.

“How long will it take to forge the Golden Pill, and how long to restore that wretched boy….”

He clicked his tongue in regret.

“I-I’m sorry.”

Fasciron lowered his head shamefully.

“I’m not angry at you. I’m frustrated because there’s nothing I can do for Aris.”

Balkan waved his hand, saying Fasciron had no reason to apologize.

“Aris couldn’t wait for the Black Sword Master’s help and has already prepared herself to recover her power on her own.”

He turned his gaze toward the direction of Zigheart and stroked his beard.

“She didn’t say a word to us and moved on her own—that means she didn’t want to burden us. I can tell what that reckless girl is thinking, and it’s just frustrating.”

Balkan recalled Aris’s melancholic eyes and furrowed the bridge of his nose.

“I understand….”

Fasciron nodded heavily, understanding how Balkan felt.

“Our Alliance Master hasn’t yet recovered his full power either. He smiles and says he’s fine, but watching him is agonizing.”

He must be suffering the greatest sense of loss, yet he smiled for everyone—Fasciron recalled Ogram and bit his lip slightly.

“Hmm….”

Balkan closed his eyes slowly in sympathy with Fasciron’s words, then opened them again.

“There’s no choice. I’ll attempt to forge the Golden Pill again. It will take some time, but….”

He smacked his lips, concluding this was the only method available to them.

“Thank you.”

Fasciron bowed deeply, expressing gratitude for his trust.

“Thank me? I should be thanking you both for coming all this way to help!”

Balkan waved his hand apologetically, saying he was sorry for venting his frustrations.

“How about we share a drink together tonight instead?”
“Sounds good. This time, I’ll win.”

The two men were smiling faintly at each other when it happened.

Uuuuuuuuung!

The black sword resting on the workbench began to emit a crimson blade aura.

“What, what is this!”
“What’s happening all of a sudden…?”

Balkan and Fasciron’s eyes widened as they watched the black sword generate intense vibrations. They had never seen such a phenomenon, even when applying the heat of the charcoal kiln and wrapping it with incantations.

“Step back!”

Fasciron brought his hands together. Gray smoke rose from between his fingers, wrapping around the black sword. It was a binding incantation that suppressed hostile energy.

Paaaaaang!

Yet even while bound by Fasciron’s incantation, the black sword thrashed about like an unbridled colt, spewing crimson blood energy in all directions.

“The sword has awakened! Get out at once!”

Fasciron stamped his feet, shouting for them to leave the Smithy.

“Fasciron!”
“I’m fine! You have to leave first so I can follow!”

He shouted for them to leave through the door first, insisting he would be fine.

“Damn it!”

Balkan gritted his teeth and rushed toward the Smithy’s entrance. But the crimson aura emanating from the black sword made it impossible to approach the door or walls.

“Cursed blade!”

Balkan hurled a massive hammer at the wall blazing with blood energy.

Crash!

The blood energy, as if refusing all entry, obliterated the hammer entirely.

“I cannot escape!”

He swallowed hard and surveyed his surroundings. The crimson blood energy spread throughout the entire Smithy, erasing the very space where he and Fasciron could stand.

“J-just wait a moment longer, and the other sorcerers will….”

Fasciron’s hands trembled like his voice. He was clearly pushing himself beyond his limits.

“Sigh….”

Balkan exhaled as he watched the ceiling and walls of the Smithy shudder as if about to collapse.

‘Is this how I die?’

Countless memories surfaced.

A love unfulfilled in childhood, weeping alone after forging his first blade, regretting the sword he’d crafted for a murderer, the regret of witnessing the end of the Heavenly Sword—all of it flooded back.

Yet now, only one blade occupied his heart.

The Heavenly Sword.

He had wanted to temper that child’s blade until Raon stood at the pinnacle of the Continent, but dying like this felt unbearably regrettable.

‘No, that boy will manage fine without me.’

Balkan recalled the young Raon he had first met in the Charcoal Kiln, and laughed with refreshing clarity.

‘Raon. Never break like you did back then.’

It was the moment he closed his eyes, thinking of death.

Crash!

The Smithy’s door and wall crumbled as a tall woman with sunset-colored hair flowing like waves stepped inside.

“Huh…?”

Balkan’s eyes widened as he beheld the refreshingly beautiful woman approaching with heavy footsteps.

“Aris? Why are you here…?”

The person who had burst through the Smithy’s door was Aris. I couldn’t fathom why she was here when she was supposed to be devoted to recovery at Zigheart.

“It’s been a while.”

Aris smiled brightly and waved her hand toward Balkan.

“So you were here after all.”

She twisted her lips as she watched the black sword thrashing about even under Fasciron’s curse.

“What?”
“This blade called out to me.”

Aris chuckled, saying the black sword had guided her to this place.

“Called out…?”

Fasciron alternated his gaze between Aris and the black sword, then shook his head.

“No, step back! This blade intends to finish consuming your soul and be reborn as a true demonic sword!”

He shrieked, declaring that if such a situation came to pass, no one could stop it.

“Even now, I feel your presence, and it drives me to this frenzy!”

Fasciron bit his lip as he pushed back the cursed sword with the shackles of his sorcery. Red blood trickled between his white teeth.

“Both of you, fall back. This place will collapse soon.”

Aris gestured for Balkan and Fasciron to exit the Smithy.

“Ah, Aris?”
“Don’t worry. I’m not the same as when this creature last sought me out.”

I hadn’t told anyone, but since awakening, I could sense the presence of this black sword.

As if our souls were bound, the black sword called to me whether my eyes were open or closed, always.
That voice was temptation and coercion alike—a curse from the past that made me remember Seif.

I had endured its temptations and threats through grueling physical training, but now I no longer needed to resist.

“Let’s see what you’ve got. Damned blade.”

Aris bared her teeth as she seized the black sword.

Roooaaarrr!

The moment her hand touched the blade, a terrifying blood aura erupted along its edge.
It was a vast and dense force—one that could swallow her body whole and drown her soul in an instant.

Whoooosh!

Aris didn’t reject the black sword’s blood aura seeping through her hand; she accepted it fully. Her skin began to flush red as if it might tear apart.

“Aris!”
“No!”

Balkan and Fasciron’s eyes widened as they watched the veins across Aris’s entire body bulge and rise.

“I’m fine.”

Aris smiled and gestured to the two worried men not to be concerned.

“I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

The moment the Black Sword’s blood energy flooded my mana circuits, I unleashed the aura sealed within my dantian.
The azure aura I had refined from the Dragon Heart’s essence shot forth like a blade, tearing through the endless tide of blood energy surging through my mana circuits.

‘Now it’s my turn.’

After obliterating every trace of the blood energy that had invaded my body, I turned the tables and targeted the Black Sword.

Whoooooosh!

I drove the undulating azure aura like waves deep into the Black Sword’s interior.

Hissssss!

As the curse of the Black Sword and my soul resonated, my vision darkened as if I had entered the Mental World.

I felt a wall of blood energy so thick that its end was invisible. Yet in the right corner, there was a rather substantial crack etched into it.

‘There it is.’

Realizing that crack was the Black Sword’s weakness, I drew my aura to its peak and unleashed it.

Crunch, crunch, crunch!

I felt the wall of blood energy protecting the curse slowly crumbling.

But the Black Sword would not fall so easily—it ignited a tremendous inferno of blood energy.

Roooaaarrr!

The crimson flames consumed my azure aura and pressed down upon my soul.

‘Do you think I’ll die here?!’

Gritting my teeth, I opened the rank of my soul and poured forth every ounce of aura I possessed.

Crunch, crunch, crunch!

Aris’s aura and the Black Sword’s blood essence clashed like ravenous beasts, devouring each other and swelling ever larger.

Yet since the space where they now fought was the Black Sword’s domain, Aris gradually found herself being pushed back.

Goooooooooo!

The Black Sword unleashed a viscous blood essence as if to devour Aris’s very soul, seizing control of the space where she stood.

‘Haaa….’

Aris bit her tongue as she felt the violent waves of blood essence the Black Sword was generating.

‘This is dangerous.’

The Black Sword was also bound by restrictions and couldn’t exert its full power, but at this rate, it seemed it could crush my soul. If the curse hadn’t developed cracks, this would have been truly perilous.

‘But….’

I haven’t revealed everything either.

As I climbed Bekmang Mountain, I hadn’t merely trained my body.
I endlessly refined my spirit, dwelling on my resentment toward myself, the anguish of failing to raise my son properly, and the thirst for vengeance against those who orchestrated this.

‘Moreover….’

I still possessed a pure aura that Raon had helped me obtain. I drew forth that precious and profound energy.

Paaaaaaa!

My soul’s strength, grown beyond what it once was, bloomed forth with the azure aura, radiating brilliant luminescence.

Whoooosh!

The blood essence that had been surging forward to devour Aris’s soul began to recede before the blue light she unleashed.

Zzzzzzzzzt!

Even as it was pushed back, the Black Sword poured forth crimson blood essence from heaven and earth, as if determined to resist to the very end.

“This damned sword!”

Aris Zigheart ground her teeth and stamped her foot. She advanced forward, subduing the black sword’s aura with a blue energy as vast as the sea.

“That power belongs to me! Return it! Shut up and follow my lead!”

If it wouldn’t listen, she would break it as is—she gripped the black sword with both hands.

Kuwaaaaaa!

Blood energy and aura clashed endlessly as the Smithy’s walls crumbled and the ground sank. Crimson sparks erupted in all directions from the tremendous wave of power.

Kuwaaaaang!

Crimson light and blue light intertwined and crossed, followed by a colossal explosion that obliterated the Smithy and everything surrounding it.

“Ugh!”
“Hah….”

Fasciron, who had been shielding Balkan, urgently stretched out his hand and swept away the smoke that had soared to the heavens.

Whoooosh.

Aris knelt upon the charred ground, her hand gripping a sword half-melted by crimson blood energy.

“The damned thing won’t listen to a word. Just like someone I know.”

Aris let out a hollow laugh, her nose wrinkled in frustration. The black sword in her grasp showed no reaction, as if it had become an ordinary blade.

“What… what just happened…?”

Fasciron’s eyes widened in bewilderment.

“Look and you’ll understand.”

Balkan chuckled and nodded.

“The cursed sword found its master!”

*

*

*

A sharp moon hung full in the night sky.

Karun walked through the corridors of the Patriarch’s Hall with heavy, turbid steps. He stopped before the Audience Chamber at the end of this passage and slowly lifted his eyes, which had settled into a quiet gaze.

“I have been waiting for you.”

Roen, who had been standing before the pillar, bowed his head and opened the door to the Audience Chamber.

“….”

Karun offered a nod of acknowledgment to Roen before entering the Audience Chamber.

“You have come.”

Glen Zigheart nodded, the blue moonlight settling upon his shoulders. He appeared both mysteriously like a god of the sword and serenely detached like a monk in meditation.

“Yes. What brings you to seek me out?”

Glen Zigheart slowly lowered his gaze as though he would listen to whatever Karun had to say.

“Do you remember the promise I made—that I would return after sparring with Raon?”

Karun stepped forward onto the crimson carpet, positioning himself before the Platform.

“Of course.”

Glen Zigheart nodded, confirming that he remembered it well.

“…Please make me stronger.”

Karun’s shoulders trembled slightly before he slowly knelt.

“I understand that the position of Head of House is not determined by strength alone. Yet I refuse to surrender in that regard either. I wish to pursue him relentlessly, to stand upon the same ground as that man—no, to surpass him once more.”

I pressed my forehead to the ground, begging for his help to grow stronger than I am now. In the past, I would have been too embarrassed and ashamed to say such words, but my growth born from defeat had transformed me.

“No matter what method it takes, I will follow you, Father.”

Karun called Glen not the Head of House, but Father, declaring he would do anything.

“Hmm….”

Glen stroked his chin and nodded.

“Considering the accomplishments you’ve built up so far, helping with your training is entirely possible. However….”

He narrowed his eyes as he gazed upon the soft moonlight descending from above.

“Even with my help, you alone will not be able to catch up to Raon.”

Glen smacked his lips, noting that Raon continued to grow stronger even now.

“…I see.”

Karun bit his lip until blood trickled down.

‘So it’s impossible after all.’

I had worried about Glen’s refusal, but hearing that even his help would not suffice felt like the very heavens were collapsing upon me.

“I understand. Thank you.”

Karun forced strength into his legs and rose to his feet. My head felt dizzy and my entire body felt drained, as though I might collapse at any moment, but I could not show such pathetic weakness before the Head of House.

“Then….”
“Wait.”

Glen waved his hand as Karun bowed his head and turned to leave the Patriarch’s Hall.

“Wait a moment. Someone will be coming.”

Glen told me to wait a little longer and pointed toward the door.

“I apologize, but I’m not in a position to meet with anyone right now….”

Karun exhaled sharply and shook his head.

CRASH!

The doors to the Patriarch’s Hall burst open violently, and Aris Zigheart strode in.

“Aris?”

Karun’s eyes widened at the sight of her. He’d heard she’d recovered her aura and fallen unconscious, but he hadn’t expected her to be awake now.

“Father.”

Aris bowed her head to Glen Zigheart.

“I’ve come to ask for the favor you mentioned before.”

She straightened her posture with confidence, as if she were merely retrieving something she’d left in safekeeping.

“Help me recover my former strength!”

Aris spoke of training assistance while lifting her chin with determination.

“Hah….”

Karun stared at Aris with his mouth agape. Her tone wasn’t a request but a command, and despite himself, a hollow laugh escaped him.

“Karun.”

Glen Zigheart rose from the Jade Throne and called out his name.

“As I’ve said, no matter how hard you try alone, it will be difficult to catch up to Raon. However….”

He gazed at Aris, who had a blood-red sword slung across her shoulder, and offered a thin smile.

“With the two of you, it will be possible. Will you try?”

A crimson flash gleamed across Karun’s pupils as he heard Glen’s words. Without a moment’s hesitation, he parted his lips.

“Of course!”

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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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