The Son-In-Law of the Magician Is a Transcendent Sword Master - Chapter 156

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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 156
Gord’s body swelled for a moment before hot steam began rising from his shoulders. His form twisted grotesquely, like a pot lid rattling violently, and he dropped to one knee, exhaling ragged breaths.
Whether fortunately or unfortunately, Gord did not transform into the bloated chimera I had witnessed in the Water Dungeon before.
Yet the Gord before me now was far more dangerous.
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‘…He still possesses his reason.’
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His body had been pushed to the extreme of enhancement, and the drug had twisted his mana circuits so severely that their output was maximized.
But unlike the chimeras, Gord retained his sanity. More than that, his bloodshot eyes held only me—anyone could see he was seething with rage from head to toe.
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“…Hmm.”
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I hadn’t expected him to actually swallow that drug.
While the drug might grant temporary results, ultimately each swing of his blade would twist the blood vessels within his body, consuming him from within.
In short, it was a shortcut to becoming a cripple.
A master of Sword Expert rank would surely know of such dangers.
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‘…Though I saw it often enough in my past life.’
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The reason so many served the Archmage King’s forces was entirely due to their hunger for greater heights.
Whether mage or swordsman, once one encounters a wall, dark thoughts inevitably surface.
But….
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‘It’s a foolish gamble.’
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Relying on such underhanded methods was clearly a desperate measure.
Crucially, a realm forcibly elevated through drugs lacks enlightenment. Just as all results require process, reaching greater heights demands corresponding understanding.
Unity of body and blade.
Every swordsman swings their blade daily seeking this realm. One must climb the slope steadily.
To skip that process and leap over the wall to touch the summit is merely to dangle precariously at the cliff’s edge. Only a fall awaits.
Perhaps that is why.
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“…You too are quite pitiful.”
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I offered Gord a bitter smile as he gasped for breath.
My words seemed to have struck a nerve.
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“Don’t…! Don’t look at me with those eyes!”
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Gord gnashed his teeth and drew aura into his longsword.
Unlike before, Gord’s aura was now tinged with murky gray, yet its density and sheer intensity far surpassed what it had been moments ago.
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—Crash!
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I met Gord’s descending blade head-on.
But unlike before, both my feet lifted off the ground. Only after being helplessly driven back several meters could I finally plant myself on solid earth again.
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“…Hm.”
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I examined the hand gripping my sword. From just one exchange, the skin of my palm had split open, blood oozing freely from the wound.
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‘At this level… is he a Sword Master?’
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Though Gord’s swordsmanship itself was unremarkable, judging purely by the density of his aura and the raw power of his physique, he had undoubtedly reached the realm of a Sword Master.
At my current level, I could not meet Gord’s blade in direct confrontation.
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‘Then I simply won’t clash with him.’
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My blade’s nature was suited for this anyway. It was never designed for trading blows with an opponent. A swift, lethal technique optimized purely for speed—driving the point into an enemy’s vital spots with maximum killing efficiency.
My swordsmanship had no grand name. Not until I met Renia, anyway.
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– How about the Demon-Slaying Blade?
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And Gord was undoubtedly a demon in his current state.
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Whoosh!
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My shoulder blurred from sight, and in the next instant, crimson blood erupted from Gord’s flank.
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* * *
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The elixir the Black Mage had entrusted to him as a final trump card.
Gord, captain of the Stork Mercenary Company, had never anticipated he would actually consume it.
He was no common street rabble—as a mercenary captain, he was intimately familiar with potions and elixirs.
To his experienced eye, this elixir was dangerous. A potion that elevated one’s realm the moment it was swallowed? Such convenient elixirs did not exist—Gord, who had consumed more potions than most, knew this all too well. He had kept it hidden behind his molars merely as a precaution against unforeseen emergencies.
Yet circumstances unfolded in a manner entirely opposite to his expectations—devastatingly so.
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“Gahhhhh!”
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The members of Gord’s vaunted mercenary company were being swept aside by some blonde female Mage without so much as a whimper. With merely a gesture, a single spell, they scattered like autumn leaves before the wind.
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‘Useless wretches.’
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Yet to dismiss them so carelessly overlooked a bitter truth: the elite mercenaries facing this ash-haired youth were scarcely in a better position.
There were five Auror Experts among them. They had even coordinated their assault. And yet they were utterly devastated.
The fact gnawed at him relentlessly.
Reagan, was it? This boy had barely crossed the threshold of twenty summers and had already reached an impossible realm of power.
But what of Gord himself? Despite over a decade of bloodshed and struggle through countless battlefields, he remained stagnant—a realization that filled him with despair.
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“Hah…”
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But that was then. Now everything was different.
With the elixir coursing through my veins, I felt a ‘power’ thrumming through every blood vessel in my body. The strength I had sought so desperately for so long now dwelled within me.
When had I last experienced such fullness, such satisfaction? I almost regretted not consuming this elixir sooner.
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‘Now… I can kill him.’
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I could tear that abhorrent boy’s limbs asunder, eviscerate him where he stood. Gord smiled darkly, his victory assured.
But Reagan’s response was entirely different. Rather than flee, he simply fixed Gord with a narrowed gaze.
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“…You’re pathetic, you know.”
“….”
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Gord was not so foolish as to mistake the emotion in those eyes—it was pity.
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“Don’t… don’t look at me with those eyes!”
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He had earned the enemy’s compassion. An unbearable humiliation.
Gord roared like a beast and lunged at Reagan. His blade sang through the air faster than thought itself. His enhanced body had outpaced his mind’s ability to command it.
Crude and artless—his swordplay lacked finesse or technique. Yet its destructive force was undeniably formidable.
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Clang!
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Reagan caught the blow and was sent flying helplessly backward.
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“Ha!”
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Gord cried out triumphantly and gave chase.
But in the next instant, he realized his flank had been pierced. The elixir dulled the pain to a whisper, yet his instincts screamed that vital organs had been damaged.
Yet what Gord perceived was only the aftermath.
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‘When did he even…?’
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I hadn’t seen the process at all. I hadn’t even caught Reagan drawing his sword in preparation.
I’d learned during our earlier exchange that his swordplay was swift and sharp. But this was different. Dangerous.
Gord immediately shifted his strategy. He crouched his body slightly, deciding to fight with offense and defense as one.
Then I saw it. Reagan was rapidly drawing his sword and retracting it in succession. Thanks to the drug-enhanced senses, I could barely follow those nimble movements with my eyes.
But that was all.
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‘My body can’t keep up…’
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No matter how well I tracked the trajectory with my eyes, my body had to move in sync to block these attacks. But with my muddled mind and my pathetically crude swordsmanship, I couldn’t deflect his assault at all.
Blood sprayed. Reagan’s blade scraped across my shoulder blade and snapped back to its original position like an afterimage. The movement resembled the fencing that western nobles commonly enjoyed.
Gord intuited it then.
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‘…This won’t work.’
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With my meager swordsmanship, I couldn’t stand against this monster. Then I had no choice but to abandon defense entirely and crush him through sheer weight class difference.
Fortunately, Reagan’s attacks were sharp, but thanks to my aura-protected body, he couldn’t strike my vital points. So I thickened the aura surrounding my body and charged forward.
Like a matador herding a bull, Reagan deftly retreated backward.
“Don’t you dare run!”
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Gord bellowed and swung his longsword in a wide horizontal arc.
Reagan lowered his stance and lightly dodged Gord’s sweeping strike, then quickly concealed himself in a narrow passage.
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“You think you can do this?!”
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Gord immediately pursued, but Reagan stood waiting in the alley above the bridge as if he’d been expecting him.
Had I been lured in?
Only then did Gord glance at the sword he was holding. A longsword as long as an adult man’s height. In other words, in such a confined space, the sword’s trajectory would inevitably be restricted.
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“Ha! You actually used your head.”
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Gord swung his sword with tremendous force, completely shattering the building walls on both sides and the bridge railing. As rubble cascaded down, the narrow passage opened up completely in all directions.
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“I’ll give you credit for the attempt.”
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With that, the terrain advantage had completely vanished. Gord grinned wickedly and spoke, while Reagan let out a scoff.
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“How foolish. Acting exactly as I predicted.”
“…What?”
“Did you think I summoned you here merely to prevent you from drawing a single blade?”
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Reagan raised his left hand, pointing toward the ground beneath Gord’s feet.
Gord’s gaze dropped instinctively. There, etched into the earth, was a geometric pattern that flickered with an ethereal blue luminescence.
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“Hagalaz (ᚺ). The Rune of Collapse.”
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Gord was a mercenary. He possessed no mastery of magic. Yet he was not so ignorant as to miss the weight of the word “collapse” from Reagan’s lips.
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“I happened to fall in earlier and noticed—there’s quite a substantial river flowing through Eltora.”
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Reagan smiled wickedly and clenched his left fist….
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—Crumble.
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The ground beneath Gord’s feet gave way. In its place, dark, churning river water surged upward.
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“Ugh!”
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The moment he plunged in, rough water flooded his lungs. He thrashed desperately, but instead of breaking the surface, his body was pulled deeper into the current.
Then he understood why. Moments before, Gord had wrapped his entire body in a thick layer of aura to brace against Reagan’s blade strikes. Now that weight dragged him downward, beyond his strength to resist.
Gord frantically dispelled all his aura. But he had already sunk to the riverbed. Swimming was within his skill—yet holding a sword in both hands while fighting the current was not.
In the end, Gord sheathed his blade at his waist and, using aquatic plants and stones as handholds, finally clawed his way onto the riverbank.
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“…Did you enjoy your swim?”
“….”
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Yet Reagan already stood there, blade leveled, looking down at Gord with an impassive expression. He raised his sword without hesitation.
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“I was going to demand your surrender, but I suspect you have no intention of complying. Besides, in that condition, you won’t survive much longer anyway.”
“…Ah.”
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Only then did Gord truly comprehend his defeat.
A profound sense of loss, far greater than the sting of failure itself, crushed down upon him.
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“…A complete and utter defeat.”
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From beginning to end, Gord had been trapped within Reagan’s grasp. Not once had he seized the initiative. In swordsmanship, cunning, and experience alike, his opponent surpassed him by leagues—no, by worlds.
And so he asked.
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“You… what exactly are you?”
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Reagan answered Gord’s question with perfect composure.
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“What do you mean? You’re my senior.”
“Se…nior?”
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Gord had no time to comprehend the meaning of those words.
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Thwack.
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A crude blade pierced straight through the brow of Gord, captain of the Stork Mercenary Company.

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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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