The Son-In-Law of the Magician Is a Transcendent Sword Master - Chapter 140

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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 140
I drew Barisada and faced off against Vera. Sheril also raised both hands, ready to unleash covert magic at any moment.
The puppets who had fallen under Malik’s brainwashing in Trion bore visible threads of control that could be seen with the naked eye.
I could sever those threads to break the brainwashing, but no such threads were visible above Vera’s head now.
“Sister, after Mother, are you now trying to kill me too? How shameless of you.”
Vera twisted her lips as she spoke. Her sharp voice dripped with overt hostility. The meaning was clear—Vera still retained some sense of self.
So to break her brainwashing, I would need to….
‘Strike the source itself.’
Having made my decision, I thrust Barisada into Andvari’s Cube and drew the Holy Sword of Benheim.
Regardless, I needed to capture Vera alive to expose the Archmage King.
“Vera, please come to your senses. You’re being manipulated by someone right now.”
“Manipulated? Don’t make me laugh. I’m simply taking my revenge with my own power. Against you, who ruined everything!”
Vera scrunched her face and clapped her hands sharply.
Clang. The iron doors lining the long Passageway of the Workshop burst open in unison. Corpses that moved with unnatural life poured forth from the darkness.
There were dozens of them.
Their shabby appearance made it clear they were all victims Vera and Sierra had gathered from the Slums.
As the soulless bodies lurched forward with grotesque movements, Vera cackled.
“Sister Lashelle, do you see these corpses? Does it bring back old memories? Sister Elisia looked exactly like this, didn’t she? Hehehehe.”
“….”
At Vera’s words, Sheril’s face turned cold as ice.
It felt as though the very air around us had dropped several degrees. Sheril turned to me with an expressionless face and spoke.
“…Reagan.”
“What is it?”
“Sierra is nowhere to be seen. She’s likely inside the Workshop. I’ll need you to handle that area.”
“What about you?”
“I need to teach my impudent little sister the bitter lessons of this world.”
Whoosh.
Before her words even finished, Sheril unleashed her covert magic. The surroundings were engulfed in shadow, turning pitch black.
Sheril’s current cultivation was mid-6th Rank—incomparable to when she was 5th Rank half a year ago. In truth, her covert magic was several times more solid and superior than what I had witnessed before.
A level befitting an Archmage. I was reminded anew of Sheril’s genius.
At this level of cultivation… well, there was no need to worry.
“…Don’t overextend yourself.”
“Don’t worry. I can manage my own safety, so Reagan, you shouldn’t overextend yourself either.”
As Sheril spread her fingers, threads of shadow extended long between her knuckles.
* * *
Vera glared at Lashelle standing within the thick shadows.
‘That despicable sister ruined everything. I must have my revenge.’
For some time now, that single obsession consumed Vera.
Though Lashelle had indeed killed her mother Arania, even Vera herself found it strange that she harbored such resentment. Yet such doubts quickly faded, leaving only the fact that Lashelle had killed her mother. As a daughter, she had to take revenge. That’s what ‘someone’ had told her.
Though Vera’s rank might be slightly lower, there were more than enough corpses here. With her current ability to command the dead through necromancy, Lashelle posed no real threat to her.
Above all, my younger sister Sierra was preparing a trump card inside the Workshop.
In other words, Vera simply needed to buy time here. That was how she could devote herself to that person.
‘…That person?’
Who on earth could that person be?
Arania Sheydi… she was already dead, so it couldn’t be her.
Then…?
“Ugh.”
Dizziness washed over me.
I shouldn’t think about this any further. Yet somehow, it felt as though someone had forced this upon me.
Doubt bloomed in a corner of my chest. A pale fog swirled through my mind.
But Vera shook her head firmly. No. This was right. What I was doing now was the correct answer. Denying her suspicions, she glared at Lashelle.
“Sister Lashelle, let’s finish the match we couldn’t complete that day.”
“I’m sorry, Vera. But I’m not Lashelle. I’m Sheril.”
At Lashelle’s response, Vera’s expression twisted.
“How dare you reject the name Mother gave you!”
“Yes. I will reject it. Because that’s the life I’ve chosen.”
The moment her words ended, Lashelle’s form blurred. Vera constructed a wall from corpses to block her while conjuring shadow blades in both hands using covert magic.
In the next instant, Vera’s eyes widened. A dark serpent rose from the shadows around her, coiling around the shadow blades in Vera’s grip.
Crackle, crackle, crack!
Vera hastily released the shadow blades. But her skin had already been torn long ago.
Blood streamed down her palms in a thick flow.
“This is… remarkable. Truly. So Sister Lashelle is indeed a 6th Rank mage through and through.”
Vera marveled inwardly. For someone who had only reached 6th Rank half a year ago, her achievements were quite impressive.
But it was fine. She had already anticipated that a direct confrontation would be difficult. If she built walls of corpses and continued to provoke a war of attrition, she could win. Vera made this judgment and raised her hand to invoke necromancy.
But in that moment, Vera realized something was amiss. There was a wall made of corpses between her and Lashelle.
Yet Vera was looking directly into Lashelle’s eyes.
Soon she understood why. The corpse wall had been cut cleanly in half. As if severed by a guillotine.
From beyond the gap in the corpse wall, Lashelle spoke.
“Vera, I don’t know what state you’re in right now. Whether you’ve been brainwashed by someone in the Royal Court and forced into this, or whether you’ve truly resorted to the vile magic of necromancy out of inferiority….”
“….”
“Actually, that’s not my concern.”
“Damn you, sister! Don’t come any closer!”
Vera frantically reached out to command the corpses.
But in that moment, Vera’s eyes flew wide open.
“…What?”
Somehow, Vera’s left wrist had been severed. The severed wrist was devoured by writhing shadows on the ground as if indulging in a feast.
With recognition came excruciating pain. Vera’s consciousness grew hazy.
“…How exactly did you…?”
The corpse wall had clearly blocked the way. The shadow serpent had also intercepted her. So how had Lashelle managed to sever her wrist?
“A trivial technique. Once you reach 6th Rank, such things become possible.”
Lashelle casually wielded the threads of shadow flowing from her fingertips. The corpses that had rushed forward were severed with a wet, sickening sound.
Silver thread. No, since these were shadow threads, they should be called Shadow Silk. She had stretched shadow endlessly, amplifying its cutting power to an extreme degree. Was such a thing even possible? Vera was also a Covert Mage, but she couldn’t even muster the courage to attempt the techniques Lashelle was displaying now.
“Vera, it seems you’ve forgotten something, so I’ll remind you.”
Lashelle spoke to the bewildered Vera in a coldly measured tone.
“A Covert Mage must always choose a battlefield where they hold the advantage. What happened to Arania Sheydi at the hands of Reagan was because she failed to do so. Yet you, Vera, have been blinded by necromancy and are providing the advantage of ‘darkness’ to a Covert Mage of superior skill.”
“….”
“That is your fatal flaw.”
“Ugh.”
This was indeed dangerous.
Having reached that conclusion, Vera stumbled backward. But one of her knees buckled. The shadow threads Lashelle had wielded had carved deeply through Vera’s Achilles tendon.
Only after collapsing to the ground did Vera realize the truth. This Workshop was surrounded by shadows on all sides—a paradise for a Covert Mage.
Vera was also a Covert Mage. She had thought she could resist to some degree. But she was wrong. Lashelle was stronger than an ordinary 6th Rank mage.
In terms of the speed and precision of covert magic, in fact….
‘Even more exceptional than Mother…?’
Vera dimly understood why Arania Sheydi had insisted on possessing Lashelle’s body.
This woman before her possessed an extraordinary talent as a Covert Mage that Arania had coveted.
“How in the world….”
She had mastered necromancy. She had thought that alone would make her invincible. But the corpses proved useless before shadow that moved freely. She couldn’t even detonate the corpses—the confined space prevented it. Even if she steeled herself for mutual destruction and detonated them, Lashelle would surely slip into the shadows through Shadow Concealment.
“As I said before, I have no interest in your condition, Vera.”
Black blood poured from Vera’s nose. She had overextended herself, using both covert magic and necromancy beyond her limits.
Yet Lashelle continued speaking without the slightest change in expression.
“Vera. You should never have spoken Elisia’s name.”
Dozens of serpents born from shadow pierced through the corpses surrounding them in unison.
Only then did Vera rediscover the emotion of fear.
Vera’s face drained of all color.
* * *
Leaving Sheril behind, I advanced deep into the Workshop.
The Passageway was blocked, as expected, by corpses. The corpses controlled by necromancy appeared sluggish and fragile, yet they posed a considerable threat in their own right. They were essentially time bombs that could detonate at any moment.
Thus, I traced the Rune character Algiz in the empty space before my left hand to deploy a protective barrier, and with Benheim’s sacred sword gripped in my right hand, I carved through the corpses and advanced.
Crack-boom!
Rotten blood and flesh scattered. Occasionally, some corpses swelled grotesquely and exploded, but thanks to the multiple layers of Algiz barriers I had erected beforehand, none reached me.
Aside from a dull ache in my left wrist joint where the barrier was deployed due to the blast shockwave, there was no significant damage.
After breaking through the horde of corpses and entering deeper into the Workshop, I saw Sierra Sheidi sitting quietly in the center of a vast Basement.
“…You.”
I frowned.
Beneath Sierra’s feet was a massive circle drawn, and around it, dozens of corpses were clumped together in a grotesque mass.
I knew what that magic was.
The most horrific and dangerous forbidden technique among necromancy—a forbidden art that crushes and fuses multiple corpses into a single massive flesh mass, then grants it life force. Undead Alchemy.
At its center stood Sierra herself, the caster.
The undead created this way… I had encountered it once before.
‘Corpse Golem.’
I’d witnessed it during my battle with the blood mage Markel. The very undead that the Black Mage Calus had used as a Vessel.
“Sierra, stop this. Are you planning to use your own body as a Vessel? That’s suicide. Once you become a Corpse Golem, it’s nearly impossible to return.”
I opened my mouth to restrain Sierra, but her reaction was decidedly peculiar. She smiled at me—a grotesque, splitting grin.
Unlike Vera, who retained some semblance of reason moments before, Sierra resembled the puppet I’d seen in Trion far more closely. The brainwashing appeared far more potent.
Which meant one thing: I could break the brainwashing with Barissada.
Sure enough, the threads of brainwashing were visible above Sierra’s head.
I drew Barissada, but the moment had already passed. Sierra spread both arms wide.
“Ahahaha! Everyone comes with me!”
Splurch!
The corpses scattered around Sierra converged in the next instant, coalescing into a massive form.
Thus was born the abomination—a Corpse Golem. Sierra’s grotesque, leering face protruded from the mass, and dozens of arms and legs flailed grotesquely from the flesh, their sickening writhing enough to make anyone’s skin crawl.
And yet….
‘Is this truly the trump card she prepared?’
It was pathetic beyond measure.
In my past life, I had fought necromancers dozens upon dozens of times.
There were plenty of them who scraped together hundreds, thousands of corpses from the battlefield to construct Corpse Golems far larger and more grotesque than this.
Yet every single one of them fell to my blade.
Of course, unlike my past life, I am not yet a Sword Master.
But what of it?
Even if I cannot match that former realm, I possess the experience of that time.
“Did you truly believe a mere lump of flesh could stop me?”
Whoosh.
I grasped mana blades forged through Conjured Blade magic in both hands.
In the same instant, the massive flesh lunged forward. Its movements were large and sluggish, easily visible. But the countless arms and legs covering its body would surely extend toward me like tentacles.
There was something perfect for this moment.
Flutter!
The Archmage King’s cloak emerged from Andvari’s Cube and draped across my shoulders.
“Good. Let’s see what you’ve got.”
It was simple. I recalled the memory of battling the colossal Chimera in the Southern Forest.
Minutes later.
I had completely dismantled the Corpse Golem with movements as precise as a butcher’s.
I severed the protruding limbs, tore the flesh, severed the sinews, shattered the bones.
Crack.
Finally, from within the utterly mangled Corpse Golem, the naked form of Sierra Sheidi emerged, wrapped in a thin membrane. To simply tear her out would endanger her life.
I dropped the mana blade and retrieved Eclara, placing it upon Sierra’s body. Then I drew the spectrum of light magic from my Barrier Stone bracelet.
Red, blue, white.
“Lotus.”
Lotus blossoms bloomed across my vision.

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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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