Chapter 43
“Urgh…”
That last attack did serious damage.
‘…Two ribs are definitely broken.’
A splitting pain ran through my bones, but it was still bearable.
The bones hadn’t pierced through the skin, and I’d been through worse before.
The real problem was Ian’s body — its sheer physical endurance.
Blood poured endlessly from the cuts all over me, and with broken ribs like these, even the healthiest man would have died.
In fact, if not for the pain keeping me awake, I might’ve already collapsed, unable to lift my eyelids that felt as heavy as iron.
“…Haa.”
With trembling arms and legs, I barely managed to stand.
The count still glared at me with murderous fury, his aura radiating in violent waves.
“Khaha! You can still stand? I’m impressed!”
“Sorry to say, but you just made a big mistake.”
“…A mistake?”
“You should’ve killed me with that last strike.”
“Puhahaha! You can barely stay on your feet, and you still talk big!”
I steadied my breathing and focused my mind.
Testing him cautiously wouldn’t cut it.
I had to gather every ounce of power I had — right now.
‘Huh?’
As I poured aura into the Dragonscale Sword, an odd sense of déjà vu washed over me.
The blade, which should’ve glowed blue, stayed dull, with only faint black streaks running along it.
The sword that had always responded to my aura suddenly went silent.
‘It’s not rejecting my aura… then what?’
“Die!”
The count didn’t give me a moment to think. He charged.
Now wasn’t the time to analyze — it was time to fight.
At this moment, his aura was stronger than mine.
Clashing head-on would only destroy my body faster.
Swish!
He aimed straight for my vital points.
I focused on evasion, not defense.
Thanks to countless sparring matches with Friana, I narrowly dodged each blow.
A difference of mere millimeters — one wrong move and I’d be dead.
“You rat!”
As I kept slipping past his blade like an eel, the count’s face twisted darker with frustration.
The dagger of Absorption would only last about thirty minutes more.
But that didn’t mean time was on my side.
“Ghh…”
Blood dripped from every cut on my body. My vision blurred; my head spun.
Even then, the Dragonscale Sword remained unresponsive.
‘…Don’t tell me?’
A spark of realization hit me.
A sword that controlled aura.
A sword that calmed aura.
I’d seen this kind before.
“…Ha. So that’s it.”
All this time, I’d been swinging the Dragonscale Sword blindly, without knowing its true nature.
The absurdity of it almost made me laugh.
“Kahaha! You’ve gone mad! Laughing at death’s door?”
To the count, it must’ve looked like the laugh of a man who’d given up.
But I knew exactly what it meant.
I stopped dodging and charged head-on.
Putting every ounce of strength I had left into the swing, I focused on the sword — on the Dragonscale Sword.
I awakened an instinct I hadn’t used since Earth — one from the Valhalla System.
The skill used by awakened humans.
Like flipping on a switch, I opened the blocked circuits within the Dragonscale Sword.
Fwoooosh!
A radiant, iridescent light exploded from the blade — brighter than anything I’d seen before.
It was the hidden ability of the Dragonscale Sword:
“Blossom.”
A skill that condensed its wielder’s aura over time, devouring the aura of opponents it clashed with — and then unleashed it all in one burst.
The main character’s demonic sword in the novel had this same ability.
Of course, his sword had several other skills stacked on top — classic protagonist privileges.
But this was enough.
For cutting down a greedy provincial count, this was more than sufficient.
Like a flower blooming after years of waiting, a massive surge of aura erupted from the blade.
It wasn’t just my own aura — it was also the aura it had absorbed from countless duels with Friana.
Far stronger than any mana stolen from a slain subordinate.
BOOOOM!
“Gaaaaah!”
The aura explosion didn’t stop at shattering the count’s thin blade — it engulfed his entire arm like roots consuming soil.
“Eeegh!”
Shhk!
I finished him off before he could even scream again.
The Dragonscale Sword pierced straight through Count Venner’s chest.
“M-me… dying… here…?”
No one survives a pierced heart.
He vomited a mouthful of blood and collapsed.
His hot blood soaked the mansion floor.
“Haa… Haa…”
My breathing came ragged and shallow.
My heartbeat thundered, and blood poured freely from my wounds again.
Soon, I was drenched in my own blood.
“Ghh…”
After all that, I couldn’t afford to die of blood loss now.
I quickly pressed on my wounds and poured recovery magic into myself as my mana slowly regenerated.
After a long struggle, the bleeding finally stopped.
“Haaah…”
Only then did I let myself collapse to the floor.
The explosion had been far stronger than I expected — not just destructive, but devouring.
The Dragonscale Sword must’ve reached its aura limit, storing as much power as it could.
Had I not realized that, the sword might’ve shattered mid-fight.
“Damn, that was close.”
The count’s corpse was already cold.
Gone was his greedy sneer — only a dull, empty stare remained.
In the original story, he was supposed to destroy House Impera and wreak havoc among the nobles.
But now, he was dead by my hand.
Funny how the one who only wanted to survive ended up killing him instead.
“Tch.”
Well, what could I do?
Friana serving House Impera had already thrown the original plot off track.
I pulled out one of the magic communication orbs at my belt.
I’d kept it off to avoid interception, but with the count dead, that no longer mattered.
“Hey, Islin. Can you hear me?”
[…Young master?]
The voice came through faintly, cutting in and out.
[Young master?]
“Yeah, it’s me.”
[Hehe, as expected — you succeeded.]
“Seems so. Judging by how clearly this connection works, you succeeded too?”
[Yes. As you instructed, we’ve subdued all the upper-rank knights. The regular soldiers are being detained as we speak.]
“Keep them alive if possible. We don’t know how things will unfold yet.”
[Understood. Then—]
The rest wasn’t up to me anymore.
The Inquisitors would handle the rest, and Count Venner’s crimes would be revealed in full.
“Kyahhh!”
“Hm?”
A sudden scream echoed — not from the orb, but elsewhere in the mansion.
It came from the second floor — the count’s bedroom.
“No way—”
I grabbed the Dragonscale Sword and rushed upstairs.
There, I found two lifeless bodies.
“…Damn it.”
The count’s wife and young son.
No visible wounds, but an empty bottle lay beside them.
I sniffed the rim — the sharp scent of bitter nuts hit my nose.
“…Poison.”
They’d taken poison right after the count’s death.
If the count’s crimes came to light, their fate would’ve been sealed anyway.
His wife would’ve been executed, and even the boy would’ve been unlikely to survive.
‘I wanted to at least spare the boy…’
This war was born of the count’s greed. That five-year-old child was innocent.
I’d planned to smuggle him to a monastery… but it was too late.
“……”
A dull ache pricked my chest.
“…Islin. You still there?”
[Yes, young master.]
“How did things go with the Inquisitors?”
[Thanks to your warning, they were able to prepare for the ambush.]
“Good. Then that’s all that matters. And…”
[…Is something wrong? The signal cut off for a moment.]
“…No. I’ll be there soon.”
[Understood. I’ll be waiting.]
Count Venner’s rebellion ended in total failure.
His invading troops were subdued, and even the special unit targeting the Inquisitors was wiped out — thanks to Ian Clan’s warning.
At first, the Inquisitors hadn’t believed it, but when the ambush came, they joined forces with Ian’s people to defeat them.
And now, the count — and his entire family — were dead.
Almost as if waiting for that, the Inquisitors publicly exposed his crimes.
“The black mage Romulus created the corpse bombs under Count Venner’s orders!”
The rumor spread through the entire Isother Kingdom like wildfire.
Though a border noble, the Venner family had been quite influential.
The count’s hard-earned reputation shattered instantly — by his own hand.
Nobles who once laughed with him now turned on him, denouncing his atrocities while hiding their own greed.
With his young son dead, the Venner territory now stood vacant — a profitable land stripped of its businesses seized from House Impera, yet still rich in mines and fertile fields.
Speculation raged over who would claim it.
“Hm…”
Eamon sighed, lost in thought.
“What’s troubling you, my lord?”
“Hm? Ah, nothing.”
He shook his head and smiled wryly.
“To think such a mighty house could fall overnight… life’s unpredictable, isn’t it?”
“Well, isn’t that life for you?”
I played dumb and chuckled.
What happened in House Venner had been twisted before reaching the public.
The official story was this: Count Venner attacked the Inquisitors, but his butler, Arberto, couldn’t stand it and fought him — both dying in the struggle.
That’s what everyone believed.
The truth — that I stormed his mansion and killed him — was buried.
Even if the count was trash, killing a noble in his own domain would’ve caused major political problems.
‘The soldiers crossing the Kranig Mountains were also said to have fallen apart after infighting.’
People would learn the truth eventually, but for now, keeping quiet was best.
‘The real problem is what that bastard Erengold will do next.’
That was the tricky part.
He wanted war among the nobles.
Now that Venner’s lucrative lands were up for grabs, who knew how he’d move?
Would he send his own men to occupy it?
Or let the neighboring lords divide it among themselves?
Or perhaps…
“My lord!”
“Ah! Ilene! You’re ready?”
“Yes! This way, please.”
While I was still mulling over my thoughts, Ilene appeared with a bright smile, calling me and Eamon over.
“What’s this about?”
“Haha! Master Bronze Beard’s new artifact turned out splendidly! Plus, the profits from the Valdig Dungeon have been pouring in!”
“…Don’t tell me?”
“It’s time to wet our throats a bit! Don’t you think?”
Following Ilene, we entered the hall — and there, an extravagant feast awaited us.
From crispy golden-brown turkey to glistening steaks — dishes I’d only dreamed of.
My mouth watered instantly.
I couldn’t believe it was real.
‘Come to think of it, since coming to this world, I’ve never eaten like a proper noble.’
“Ah! My one and only friend! You’ve arrived!”
Harun was already seated, waving a massive oak barrel.
“I prepared this for a day like today! My own brew! It’s not as good as the ones in Zeigelond, but it’s sweet enough!”
“Ahh…”
I hadn’t planned to drink — but this, I couldn’t refuse.
Three months trapped in the world of a novel.
That night, for the first time, I finally enjoyed a meal worthy of celebration.
